The Most Dangerous Game
by dave-d
Summary: Kaname has been kidnapped, to force Sousuke to participate in a gladitorial-type contest.
1. Default Chapter

Smoke clouded the room, as the cigar aficionados puffed away, slowly depleting the boxes of Cuban cigars. Large crystal decanters held brandy, port, and 25 year old scotch. Ornamental china bowls held caviar. Hand- painted plates contained a few remaining pieces of smoked salmon and imported cheese.  
  
_The session was coming to an end._  
  
Ten men and two women sat around an antique ebony table, the top polished to mirror smoothness. Some sat upright, a model of sophistication. A number lounged indolently, their shoes scuffing the fine furniture. Others milled about, walking, wanting a better view.  
  
Each man there---politician, business stalwart, captain of industry, or wealthy raconteur---had his eyes riveted to the large LCD screen.  
  
"That brings us to the last of our professionals. _Jacques Haignere._ Thirty- eight years old, and a mercenary for almost half of those years. He has done cleaning work for organized crime, as well as odd jobs for those who chose to meet all of his demands. He has done political assassinations, some of which made the international press without his identity ever being suspected. An expert with pistols, he is also adept at savate and knife fighting. He has no family, and no one tracking his whereabouts." A portly man in his mid fifties, the speaker took a long sip of scotch before continuing. He wore a fancy leather coat, designer slacks, and a food stained silk shirt.  
  
A large stack of folders sat in front of him, as did a wireless keyboard.  
  
"It cost a pretty penny to bring him here, but I think he will prove worth it. You've had time to read his files. For the next few minutes, we will run personal footage he has supplied. After that, I would like a motion to accept him into our next event. We will then vote."  
  
For the next ten minutes, the assembled men watched the film, hearing the mercenary describe his past operations and define his weapons preferences and combat approaches. At the finish, the men in the room made a motion, seconded it, and unanimously voted to add the mercenary to the list of combatants.  
  
"Now that we are finished with that, I propose that we review a number of special opportunities." A tall cadaverous man stood, his ruffled peach colored shirt ill-matched with his pressed green slacks.  
  
"As we know from our earlier extravaganzas with pit bulls and fighting cocks, the wild element can throw an exciting touch of uncertainty and unpredictability into the mix. Some of our best animals started off as strays or amateur projects. I have gathered a number of candidates for your perusal, and will afford you the option of adding one or all to the roster."  
  
The first five men discussed were escaped criminals, members of street gangs, and winners of less sophisticated illegal tournaments. All would come cheap, and each would make for an interesting contrast to the professionally trained soldiers and assassins. Four out of the five were judged to be promising. The fifth was considered to be deficient in martial abilities.  
  
"That brings us to our last item, gentlemen. Every year we look for someone memorable, some person or persons who will liven up the betting and bring a touch of uniqueness. I direct your attention to the screen, if you would be so kind." A photograph of a teenage boy, sporting a high school uniform, filled the screen, a distinctive X-shaped scar adding a look of toughness to his otherwise unremarkable face.  
  
"His name is Sousuke Sagara. He is a year 3 student at Jindai Highschool." The speaker's declaration was met by laughter, chuckling, a few razzes, and noisy expectoration.  
  
_"Ha ha ha ha._ So much for the joke, Ichabod. Who's he really, your daughter's boyfriend? Want to get rid of him or something?" Most of the men in the room laughed. Many of the men pictured on the long distance monitors looked to be amused as well.  
  
"Not your secret lover, I hope." Snickers and guffaws followed.  
  
"It took a little while to identify him, but he came to our attention after reviewing film of an attempted bank robbery. It will be instructive to see how many of you will continue to scoff after we view that recording. As for daughters, I believe _yours_ is enrolled at the Da Vinci International School in Antwerp, _is she not?"_ That supposedly hidden fact silenced the loud- mouthed jokester.  
  
"Let's go to the video tape" the tall man said with a crooked grin.  
  
The film was not of the highest quality, as it was put together from the tapes of surveillance and security cameras. The picture looked as if it were viewed through a fishbowl, but the footage was sufficient to pique everyone's interest.  
  
The young man, moving with confidence and an air of purpose, easily took out every criminal in the establishment. His weapons skills were impressive, and his decision making ability formidable.

_There was no further laughter._  
  
"Any family? Someone who will miss him?" That question came from a stocky balding man with a jeweled eye patch, a cigar stub tightly clenched in his teeth.  
  
"None" the lanky man replied. "His parents are both long deceased in Afghanistan, or so the dossier at his high school says.. There are no living relatives. His money is in a trust fund under the family name, and he lives alone in a single person domicile. Our spy noted a small group of friends, none of them with significant backgrounds, with the one exception being a young lady whose family is in organized crime. She should not prove a risk or impediment in any way."  
  
"How and where did he receive his training and weapons?" A mannish looking woman with a crew cut and a scar along her jaw line stood up to take a look at one of the folders pertaining to the boy in question. "_Afghanistan?_ After his parents died?"  
  
"That's our best guess" the tall man answered, flicking some ashes off of a cigarette.  
  
"No doubt he ran with the mujahadeen, learning to fight or die. There is record of him in Japan for less than two years. From our spy, we have word that he is a military otaku, eating, sleeping, dreaming, and probably shitting military habits and attitudes." That crude description had one man sniffing and looking superior. He swallowed hard when the speaker glared at him.  
  
"His personal account is sizeable, no doubt allowing him to afford black market prices without any difficulty. His ability to obtain weapons is another sign of his resourcefulness. After you finish reading the scant material in his folder, I recommend we vote to include him."  
  
"He should come pretty cheap, should he not?" A long haired and square- jawed man in brushed velvet suit sat with one leg hanging over his chair arm. He spat tobacco at a stained garbage pail.  
  
"Yes," the boy's advocate answered, smiling a toothy smile. "Very cheap indeed. I doubt that he will be easily bought. But, we know just the currency we need." Walking over to the portly man's keyboard, he pushed a single key.  
  
A color school photo of an attractive young lady filled the upper left quarter, almost looking as if she were sneering at the action still taking place on the remainder of the view screen. She too wore a school uniform, starkly accentuating the blue color of her hair. "Young master Sagara spends a lot of time with this young woman, a Miss Kaname Chidori. She too lives alone, with her mother deceased, and her father and sister in the United States."  
  
"She might provide a rather nice diversion during the extravaganza, might she not?" a red faced man in a tuxedo asked, stroking his belly with a jewel-encrusted hand. "Might prove an interesting prize for the winner of the preceding high stakes card games."  
  
Many heads nodded in agreement.  
  
"Let's vote, gentlemen."  
  
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx  
  
_Damn that Sousuke!"_ Kaname had stormed off in a huff and was still seething. "Curse his blasted otaku brain." Fortunately, she was alone. Some of the words she chose would not go over well in polite company.  
  
If any of the other people walking the street had been close by, they would have been troubled by her red face, clenched fist, and stiff-legged walk. A black cat crossed her pat and wisely sped towards the nearest place of safety.  
  
"Just when I thought he might have a single romantic bone in his body! _Ohhhhhhhh._ No doubt the doctors at Mithril discovered it on his last check-up and had it removed."

She had dressed especially nice today.  
  
She had brought him a delicious lunch.  
  
She had on his favorite perfume.  
  
_It was a special day_.  
  
They had chosen today to officially announce that they were dating. Not that many people were surprised.

_That was not the point.  
_  
"Yes. The same damn trick again. Why _today_?!" She had been foolish. Her expectations were too high. When she saw the bracelet and the pin she was speechless---they were so beautiful, so well crafted.  
  
Then, he opened his mouth.  
  
"I hope you like these, Kaname. I had them made especially for you." That had put her on cloud nine.  
  
"The bracelet has a powerful Black Technology tracer in it. The pin is a microphone. Twist one petal on the flower and it will be active." That had pulled the cloud right out from under her feet.  
  
And, to make matters worse, she blew up in front of the whole class. Kyouko got it all on film.  
  
"I don't know why I _ever_ put my faith in him." She had stormed out of the school alone, as soon as she heard the buzzer. It suited her mood. She certainly was _not_ going to wait for that Moronic Military Misfit. He had earned the right to clean all of the blackboard erasers in school by detonating the suspicious package he discovered outside the school.

Again. Why _today_?!  
  
One of the year 2 students had seen the vice principal drop the brown paper-wrapped parcel. The school official had been too slow to retrieve it. He was mortified when pieces of his special imported girlie magazines had been scattered over the parking lot and student outdoor lunch area. Enough pages had been intact to let evetybody now what he had been carrying.  
  
_The superintendent had been visiting.  
_  
Kaname was too distracted to notice a pair of shadowy figures standing in the shadow of a large dumpster. She did not hear the soft footfalls following behind her. There was no chance to cry out or struggle when a chloroform-soaked sock was firmly held across her mouth and nose.  
  
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx  
  
"I still have a _lot_ to learn," Sousuke said to himself on the way home.  
  
He had thought that Kaname would like the jewelry. Yes, she had blown up at him that last time he had given her practical items, but that had been before they started caring for each other. Of course, he also made the mistake of saying that he had asked for Captain Testarossa's advice in the design work.  
  
The other matter was less troublesome. Despite his greater sensitivity and better grasp of common sense, Sousuke still fell back on old habits now and then.  
  
"It _could_ have been a bomb," he groused.  
  
Mithril, and its beleaguered Financial Division, would see to the vice principal's discontent. Perhaps Kurz would offer him some replacement magazines. Or, they could send Melissa by to speak with him again.

_If she brought the whip, it might speed things along.  
_  
It should not be a serious problem.  
  
Kaname was a different story. The further their relationship went, the more angry she got at his perceived errors and inadequacies. It was confusing. She kept saying "You need to love me for who I am. Don't be expecting me to change to suit your whims."  
  
Nonetheless, every chance she got, she kept trying to change him. For the one hundredth time, he wished that Mithril had a field manual on women.

_Then again, if it had been written by either Captain Testarossa or Sgt. Major Mao...._  
  
His mind weighed down by a number of issues, Sousuke still managed to catch sight of a two very subtle scrape marks on the side of the road as he walked home. The marks reminded him of those made by a body being dragged.  
  
For a brief moment, his heart felt as if it had stopped. "What if Kaname had been abducted?" was the instantaneous thought. He stood still a moment, calming himself down.  
  
_What was the likelihood of that happening on the one day she runs off on her own?  
_  
Kaname had his spare key. If she was not waiting for him at his apartment, he would need to give her a call as soon as possible. It was quite likely that she was timing him. She might even have him under surveillance. He must see to damage control before things got out of hand.  
  
"Even _more_ out of hand," he corrected himself.  
  
She was not waiting for him at his room. Somebody else was. A street punk in ragged clothes, a skateboard under his arm, was lounging against his door. He carried a large office style envelope. His spiked hair was tinted by every day-glo color imaginable and he had doodled graffiti on both of the items that he held.  
  
"Hey, boyo, this_ your_ crib?" His front teeth were chipped by the metal barbell piercing his tongue. His slurred speech had a different origin, given the smell of alcohol on his breath.  
  
"If it is, bro, then I have sumthin' for ya."  
  
Before answering, Sousuke walked carefully up and down the hallway in both directions. Seeing no one, he cautiously approached the unusual looking young man. "This is my apartment. My name is Sousuke Sagara. _Who_ are you looking for? _Why_ are you looking for someone?"  
  
Souske pulled his Glock 17 out of the side pocket on his carry bag. He held it casually by his side, dropping his bag to the floor.  
  
The young man's eyes widened at the sight of the gun. "_Whoooooah_, man. Be cool, friend. I'm just running an errand. My boss got a call. We got some money. You get the envelope. Then the deal's all square, right?" His hand shook as he held out his delivery.  
  
Sousuke carefully sniffed the envelope, smelling no evidence of recognizable poison. He took a pair of gloves out of his bag, so as to keep from adding further finger prints.  
  
Opening the envelope, he pulled out a paper and a Polaroid picture. The snap shot caught his attention first and earned the garish young man a hard cuff across the temple with the pistol.  
  
"_Where_ is she? _Who_ has her? If you answer truthfully, and I can confirm your words, there is a good chance that I will let you live." The picture showed Kaname tied to a chair, a frightened look on her face. He bracelet and pin were still in place.  
  
Sitting on the floor, the amateur courier cringed, pressing his back against the wall. His eyes were wide and his breathing rapid.  
  
"Man, I don't know ANYTHING about what's in there. It's none of my business. Don't be telling me something I don't need to hear! I did what I was told to do. Now I just want to scram." He got to his feet, posture screaming that he was about to make a break for it.  
  
Coldly and efficiently, Sousuke kicked the young man's feet out from under him, using a hand on his neck to drive his head into the floor. The impact was extremely painful, leaving a few polka dots of hair paint on the hard surface. "I will read the message. If I have reason to believe you are lying, things will go poorly for you." The look on his face left the frightened courier speechless.  
  
Sousuke read the note.  
  
He stood still momentarily, a prisoner of disbelief. One of his favorite short stories came to mind. _'The Most Dangerous Game,'_ by Richard Connell. A classic tale of good versus evil. Hunter becoming the hunted. It had been made into a movie with Fay Wray and Joel McCrea. A warm up of sorts for King Kong.  
  
He let the boy run off.  
  
Walking into his apartment, he headed for the communications console.  
  
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx  
  
There was a knock on the door.  
  
"Come in." Tessa checked the tea. Almost ready. Good. Two plates with cut fruit and small biscuits was on her desk courtesy of the kitchen staff.  
  
"Madame Captain." Lt. Cmdr. Kalinin politely inclined his head before taking the available seat.  
  
"You said you had urgent news regarding Sgt. Sagara and Miss Chidori, Mr. Kalinin?" Tessa wrinkled her nose at the mention of the young woman.  
  
"I hope you are _not_ here to inform me that they have eloped." She had meant it as a light-hearted joke, but her throat tightened up just the same. She_ still_ had great difficulty with their relationship.  
  
"No, Captain. That would be a much simpler issue to deal with. This is a rather unique situation, something I would have thought exclusive to pulp novels or bad television." He gratefully accepted a cup of tea and a plate of food.  
  
"And you are here to discuss whether or not Mithril has a role to play in cleaning up the mess?" Tessa had seen that look before, and those finger twitches.  
  
"Very astute as always, Captain." The Lt. Cmdr. smiled after taking a sip of the tea. _Exquisite.  
_  
"The crux of the matter has to deal with some form of illegal betting, I would wager." He blinked, twice, realizing his choice of wording.  
  
"Imagine the ancient Roman gladiatorial games. Substitute in mercenaries, killers, street thugs, and other violent men and women. It would appear that Sgt. Sagara has caught someone's attention. His participation has been requested in no uncertain terms."  
  
_"What?"_ Tessa nearly choked on her tea. She frowned. It was uncouth to show that kind of emotional reaction.  
  
"I take it you refused him permission, if he was foolish enough to ask for it. Mithril does NOT make it a point to encourage barbarism." That was not entirely true in some instances. "I am certain we will remain quite capable of providing the sergeant with all of the violent opponents he will ever require."  
  
"It is more complicated than that, Madame Captain. Sgt. Sagara's voluntary participation was no doubt judged to be a low probability. Unknown persons took it upon themselves to improve the odds considerably. They kidnapped Miss Chidori and are holding her hostage, her safe return linked to the sergeant's participation in their little game." The Lt. Commander's eye lid twitched with a nervous tic.  
  
Tessa furrowed her brow. "That's barbaric! _Those bastards!"_ She blushed at her choice of words. "That certainly puts us squarely on the horns of a dilemma." She stirred her tea, mind awhirl with countless issues that revolved around the news. "I would like to hear _your_ analysis, Mr. Kalinin."  
  
"Sgt. Sagara can be ordered to avoid the confrontation. Miss Chidori is wearing a tracker and microphone that the sergeant provided her with, disguised as jewelry." He noticed a quick frown on his commanding officer's face.  
  
"We could go in ourselves, with a special strike team. There is a good chance that we could extricate the hostage. It might, however, prove useful to have a man on the inside. It would also prove wise to wait until a majority of the armed contestants were eliminated, if possible. That, of course would put Sgt. Sagara at risk."  
  
"Do you think the sergeant would follow your order if you told him to sit on the sidelines?" Tessa already knew the answer, but the point needed to be verbalized.  
  
"No, I do not." Kalinin nodded his head, a slight smile on his lips.  
  
"If it were my choice, I'd rather have at least a modicum of control over his planning and actions. The more important question is whether or not Mithril should become involved. I doubt a well orchestrated attack would shine even the slightest bit of light on our existence." He coughed then cleared his throat. He took a sip of tea.  
  
"More to the point, however, is whether or not we should set precedent. Should we go out of our way to protect the Whispered, when their captors know nothing of their special abilities? Should we put the lives of any number of operatives at stake, in order to further the goals of one young sergeant?"  
  
"Pros and cons, if you please." Tessa's own mind was speeding along like a bullet train on a new stretch of track.  
  
"The dangers I am most concerned with have to do with our sponsors, Captain. As they contribute a considerable sum of money and equipment...... not to mention intelligence information and political clout...... they feel a right to judge our actions and intentions. Our crusade to protect the Whispered is tolerated by some, but is not sufficiently in their interest to risk unwanted discoveries."  
  
"I agree, Mr. Kalinin. We will not be able to paint this as an anti-terrorist action. While any ethical and moral man should cheer at the elimination of a dirty practice such as the one you suggest, the action would benefit only a single nation, and one which has not taken the requisite steps to rectify the situation itself." Tessa's face hardened, as she realized that there was no good justification for the organization to become involved.  
  
Just before she put that thought into words, an idea struck her. Mr. Kalinin did not miss the sudden change in expression. "Would it be possible, Mr. Kalinin, for some of our most sought after terrorists and mercenaries to be invited to such a contest?"  
  
Stroking his beard, Lt. Cmdr. Kalinin nodded. "An impressive line of reasoning, Captain. The Intelligence Division informs me that they had gotten wind of contests of this sort before. Some of the names rumored to have been involved were rather interesting, to say the least. I can see one significant flaw in your line of thought, however."  
  
"The games are arranged so that only one man walks away? We could simply sit back and let them kill one another?" Tessa scowled, realizing the soundness of that argument.  
  
"Yes. That would be my supposition, even though the note delivered to Sgt. Sagara did not explicitly make that point." He took a fax document out of a folder he had brought with him. "Here is a copy of the correspondence sent to Sgt. Sagara."  
  
The document mentioned an armed contest..... men against men..... with a prize for the victor. It told Sousuke where to meet..... when to be there..... and what would happen if he did not comply. He was instructed to bring weapons of his choosing, with no specific details or limitations.  
  
There was a rather blunt warning against involving additional persons.  
  
Tessa wanted to crumple up the paper and throw it against the wall. She maintained her calm and dignity. "The lack of details could work to our advantage, could it not?" Tessa rested her chin on folded hands.  
  
"A group of men brazen enough to come up with such an atrocity...and powerful enough to pull it off undetected...might just happen to have a connection to the drug trade or Black Market arms...right?" Tessa tapped one finger against her cheek.  
  
"You are correct, Madame Captain. We can also offer other considerations. Sgt. Sagara is clearly a target, whether or not he agrees to participate. He remains the _only_ person capable of piloting ARX-7 model Arm Slave. The Lambda Driver is growing in importance, not diminishing. We _cannot _afford to lose such a valuable resource." Kalinin steepled his hands together.  
  
He began to consider which Divisions and what soldiers would be needed in this type of operation. Things would need to be set rolling as soon as possible. If the scope of the operation was expanded in an attempt to discover as many people as possible involved in the troublesome practice, things would get very complicated very quickly.  
  
"It seems we have arrived at a common conclusion, Mr. Kalainin. Please orchestrate matters as soon as you are able. Send a response to Sgt. Sagara, giving him our blessings." Tessa clearly looked relieved. She flipped her ponytail around in her hand.  
  
"At once, Captain." Before exiting the door, Lt. Cmdr. Kalanin turned and left Tessa with a final thought.  
  
"Those bastards---as you called them---have no idea just what kind of spectacle they have won for themselves. I can't help but wonder if our operatives are being sent in to rescue Sgt. Sagara, or whether they will simply mop up after him.  
  
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx  
  
His brightly colored Hawaiian shirt drawing the attention of the sedate and distinguished businessmen crowding the sidewalk at lunch time, Kurz put on his wildest pair of sunglasses as he continued his brisk walk towards the safe house.  
  
His bowing and flirting stirred up the pretty college girls and conservative secretaries.  
  
His cheerful exclamations of _"Oh yeh!"_ and _"Hey, babe!"_ were exceeded only by his repeated cry of _"C'mon Sis, you can move your cute little ass faster than that. I know you want this beer pretty bad."  
_  
Melissa growled.  
  
It was getting harder by the moment to maintain her composure.  
  
The joke had been lame to start with. It was way past annoying now. Kurz held a beer in his hand, having said it was like the carrot held in front of a donkey---or _ass,_ of course.  
  
"Kurz, I think I will teach you the difference between a donkey and a mule when we get to the apartment. I will be doing the planet a REALLY big favor."  
  
"Oh, yeh. Kurz Weber never shies away from some horsing around, babe. You can teach me all you want, as long as the ride is _swe-e-e-e-e-eeet_." He bowed, waved his arms flamboyantly, and headed towards a pharmacy. "I'll get the essential items in _there_. Do you prefer ribbed or smooth?"  
  
"Doesn't matter, dead man. They can ship your remains home in _either_ type. I think my point went over your empty little head. No surprise there." Melissa, her black halter top stretched to its limit and her cut-off shorts riding a little too high, laughed as she drew her concealed combat knife.  
  
"Mules are born to a female horse and a male jackass. No matter how they end up looking, they are _always_ sterile." She tossed the knife, caught it, and made a slashing motion a little below waist level.  
  
"They're still good at carrying stuff, though. You're doing a _real_ good job of carrying that beer, by the way...."  
  
Kurz gulped. Without looking or slowing down, he tossed the beer over his head, smiling when he heard Melissa catch it. "Don't mention it babe. I owe you one, after getting to watch you in that outfit. Be still my beating heart."  
  
"Keep it up Weber, and your heart will be the _only_ thing you'll have left to beat. They'll probably give me a f-cking medal!" Melissa's laugh startled a group of elderly women holding ice cream bars.  
  
Kurz' rejoinder was cut short by the sound of a cell phone ringing. Melissa took the phone out of her purse, looked at the number displayed, and walked over to a sheltered alcove. Kurz stood in front of her, his eyes carefully scanning the street and buildings as he waited.  
  
"Time to saddle up," Melissa said when she finished receiving their instructions. "Kaname's in the Kabukicho district of Shinjuku. I have the coordinates. We need to meet a couple of copters and grab our M9s. Gonna be a hot time in the old town tonight."  
  
"Oh, baby. The red light district. A pretty lady on every corner. Gambling, drinking, blue movies, and fine food. What _more_ could a man ask for? Neon lights.......... Karaoke.......... and a hot Sgt. Major.......... I must have died and gone to heaven!" Kurz was rubbing his hands together with glee.  
  
"Dream on, sergeant. We have work to do. Flag down a cab. It'll be quicker than calling in our driver."  
  
"OK. Show a little more leg, babe. That'll get us a taxi _real_ fast. Oh yeh!" Kurz laugh was interrupted by a stiff foot to his stomach.  
  
"Enough leg for you, Kurzie boy?" Melissa smiled triumphantly.  
  
"P-plenty."  
  
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Alone in his apartment, Sousuke wrestled with guilt.  
  
Ultimately, he was the reason that Kaname was in grave danger now. That truth sat poorly with him. The kidnapping in Khanka had been prompted by her being a Whispered. Many of their smaller adventures had taken place as a result of serendipity and simple misfortune.  
  
In some manner, Sousuke Sagara had proven himself to be a worthy recruit for the gladiatorial games. He was Rainsford, the big game hunter, an ultimate quarry for the crazed General Zaroff to hunt.  
  
But, there would be no Ship Trap Island and no Caribbean jungle. The organizers, the people with the passion for the hunt and the kill? There is low probability that they would be at physical risk themselves. They lived for danger maybe, but for the danger of others. That very thought angered Sousuke, but it also gave him hope.  
  
Safe in their gilded cages, might such men grow lax and overconfident? It was likely that they did not know of Mithril's existence, or of his connection to the secret mercenary organization. Perhaps they might meet Zaroff's fate when all was said and done.  
  
_Kaname's safety weighed heavy on the young soldier's heart.  
_  
The note said she would be released if Sousuke participated in their game, but he knew what happened all too often when captives caught a glimpse of their captors faces or surroundings.  
  
_She had the bracelet._  
  
And, if she was able to activate it, the microphone may play a role.  
  
Kurz, Melissa, and a contingent of ground forces were assigned to her rescue. He had no choice but to place his faith squarely on their shoulders.  
  
The invitation had instructed him to bring the weapons of his choice. There were no limitations made on the number of weapons or the type of weapons. As such, he had decided on the strategy of overkill. He would bring as much as he could carry. The selection could be weeded out bit by bit, or in one large purge, depending on future restrictions and the nature of the combat itself.  
  
_What to bring?  
_  
The note had instructed him to meet his contacts at a mahjong parlor in the Kabukicho quarter. The Intel folks at Mithril had gone over satellite photos of the area with a fine-toothed comb. It looked as if that particular shop sat next to a series of old warehouse buildings and an old abandoned fireworks factory. The gamesters may well have turned those buildings into fighting arenas.  
  
If the goal was to provide a good show, and to test the skills of one man against another, there would need to be adequate visibility for the watchers, and sufficient cover and obstacles for the contestants. Cameras could suffice for the one, unless the bettors wanted a more visceral thrill.  
  
Sousuke gave thought to Rainsford and his run from Zaroff.  
  
The big game hunter had been the mouse to the Russian general's cat. Zaroff had given his prey a number of reprieves, so that the game could go on longer. Sousuke would not likely receive such a boon. For certain, he would not treat this as a game.

_He well knew the meaning of kill or be killed._  
  
The traps that Rainsford had made..... the Malay man-catcher..... the Burmese spiked tiger pit.....the Ugandan knife whip..... had not stopped Zaroff. Nonetheless, they had hurt him on one occasion; had claimed the life of his most dangerous liegeman; and had reduced the number of hounds trailing him.  
  
Yes. There would be room in his weapons bag for some C4 and a number of anti-personnel mines.  
  
_What else?  
_  
Grenades of various types. Lightweight but sophisticated night vision and infra-red gear. A collapsible blowgun and darts tipped with cone shell venom.  
  
For what seemed an eternity, the young man held his combat knife, rolling it in his hand, examining its every edge. It was a physical anchor, holding his mind in place as it rode some large swells of emotion and self- examination.  
  
_This battle was for Kaname.  
_  
It was his fault.  
  
He would likely have to access levels of his less civilized nature again, though without medications. This knife was a symbol of that.  
  
Sousuke had to decide whether or not he would fight dirty.  
  
_He would._  
  
Although it would make him sick to his very core, he would carry quick-acting poison to add to the blade. His life and honor meant nothing compared to Kaname.

_She was everything to him._  
  
If he could survive as Rainsford did..... In his case, leaping from a cliff into the roaring sea..... he might gain the opportunity that fictional character had. Instead of making a swim for freedom, Rainsfords had snuck back into Zaroff's estate, confronted him, and enjoyed a comfortable rest in the dead man's bed.  
  
Kaname was in danger.

_He badly wanted the perpetrators to pay.  
_  
For a moment, his features brightened. The incongruity was striking. He would be an animal. A civilized animal. He would personally do whatever was necessary to remove each and every threat. He could _not_ afford to simply place all of his faith in Mithril.  
  
Well, a civilized animal had a need for something more than tooth and claws.  
  
He weighed the benefits of each of his pistols, rifles, and submachine guns, finally arriving at the final mix. When everything was securely packed away, he would head downstairs to a waiting van. He would be driven to the fringes of the red light district. The last part of the journey would be made on foot.  
  
After taking a long look at his most recent photograph of his girl friend, Sousuke turned out the lights and headed on his way.


	2. Chapter 2

Snug in the restraining straps of his M9, Kurz was _not _a happy camper.  
  
"Shit. This _really_ sucks," he complained. "All these back roads makes it easier to make our way undetected, but it's out of the way, and I must have flattened twenty dumpsters by now. And a couple of cats and dogs, I think."  
  
"Stop your bellyaching, you big baby. All that f-cking whining is giving me a headache." Melissa cursed silently to herself as she too caused some significant collateral damage.  
  
It would take a while for the municipality crews to straighten out that mess of downed power lines and fallen telephone poles. She wondered what everyone would think caused the damage.  
  
"I just heard from the infiltration and containment teams," the Sgt. Major continued. "They're all in place and awaiting us. Before we get there, they will be busy with their videotape and tracing activities, attempting to identify anyone showing up or trying to leave in person, and hunting down electronic leads to anyone getting a direct feed of tonight's big event. Our job's easy in comparison, so shove a sock in it already!"  
  
"Yeh, yeh, yeh. I should be kicking my heels together. Sousuke is the one with the tough assignment. We really should be helping him, instead of trying to rescue his best girl Kaname. The guys on foot can take care of that, can't they?"  
  
"Try not to be any more of a moron than usual, Weber. Who would you rather face, a resurrected Gauron, or Sousuke if we helped him and Kaname snuffed it?" Melissa gripped the controls a little tighter.  
  
_The light-hearted banter did not disguise the fact that two people that meant the world to them were in great danger_.  
  
"Good point, Sis. Everyone once and a while I can see why they put you in command. Ususally I think it's just because you have such a sweet ass. I would follow _that_ anywhere, you know." Kurz laughed.  
  
"What building is Kaname in currently?" Flipping a series of switches, he brought up a map of the city, zeroed in on the desired coordinates, and zoomed in on the blocks in question.  
  
"Looks like she's been moved from the gambling parlor back into the rear-most warehouse. Her location has been stable for the past quarter of an hour. Your position grows more precarious with each f-cking minute, sergeant." Melissa switched momentarily to another channel, receiving a message from the look-out team.  
  
"I just got word. The van dropped off Sousuke, and they've caught sight of him walking in. We're going to have to pick up the pace."  
  
"_Shit._ This sucks even more!" Kurz knocked a small car onto its side, watching as the vehicle slid up onto a neighbor's front porch. "I'm sure glad I'm not an insurance estimator. Those poor son of a bitches are going to be busy tomorrow."  
  
"Don't get too reckless, Kurzie boy. If our contacts in the JSDF or Japaneses government get wind of this, there may be some secret bills sent into the Finance clowns. They know where we live. And, they write _our_ checks." Melissa was only half joking.  
  
"Thanks, babe. I feel so much better, now." Kurz cringed as he knocked down a set of street lamps.  
  
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx  
  
It was dark.  
  
Very dark.  
  
A large part of that was due to the thick fabric bag over her head. But, the room lights were off as well.

_Darkness upon darkness.  
_  
And quiet. Dead quiet.  
  
Kaname was worried, uncomfortable, and confused. Where was she? What would they do with her? Who were 'they?' Why was she here? When would anyone clue her in?  
  
_She didn't remember much.  
_  
After waking up in a small well lit room, she found herself tied to a chair. Her picture was taken. They had carried a dripping syringe over to her. There had been a prick in her arm. Then she woke up here, wherever that was.  
  
_She was still bound.  
_  
Any time she let herself get excited, the bag made it hard for her to breath. She had to stay as calm as possible.  
  
_'Sousuke,'_ she thought.  
  
Where was he? What was he doing? Did he know she was missing? Would he coming looking for her? The bracelet. She had been so disappointed, so upset.

_It was still there_.

She felt a rush of gratitude, followed by the pins and needles of regret.  
  
Had she treated him so poorly that he would not try to rescue her? She didn't think so. Not with what they had come to mean to each other. Not with the growing intimacy they shared.  
  
She had thought that the risk of being a Whispered would be somewhat lower by now. It was a tricky situation. If the risk was too high, she might be in danger of something just like this. If the risk wasn't high enough, there might be no reason whatsoever for Mithril to keep Sousuke anywhere near her. She knew all too well how Tessa and Mardukas had tried to convince Sousuke to voluntarily accept reassignment. They stopped short of making it and order, no doubt afraid of what Sousuke might do.  
  
_Was this because of her special nature?_  
  
Suddenly, the noise of a door opening. Things got a little lighter. The overhead lights must be on.  
  
Footsteps.  
  
Well measured.  
  
_Light.  
_  
High heel shoes?  
  
A woman?  
  
The bag was pulled off of her head.  
  
"Well, they certainly make bait cute these days, don't they?" It was a woman. A young lady of oriental descent, not too much older than Kaname. She wore a sequined evening gown, fancy heels, a large pearl necklace, and jewel-studded bracelets and rings. Her midnight black hair was an ebony waterfall. Her lips and cheeks showed more than natural color.  
  
Her fingernails looked like bloody daggers.  
  
"Where am I? Who are you?" Kaname blinked against the bright lights. Was this a rescuer? A tormenter? An apathetic observer?  
  
"Why do they always as the same _b-o-r-i-n-g_ questions? I guess it should be expected." The girl took out a cigar not much thicker than a cigarette. She clipped off the end, lit it, and took a long pull. She breathed the smoke directly into Kaname's face.  
  
"It's not _my_ job to answer your questions, my dear. But you are ever so fortunate. I'm in the mood to talk today." The young lady flicked a few ashes over the captive.  
  
"Why am I here?" Kaname asked, a little hotter than she had intended. She saw the other woman smile at her discomfort and irritation. It made her all the more angry and determined. She hoped she'd have a chance some day to wipe that smile off of her painted face.  
  
"I suppose I have been rather rude. I should introduce myself. My name is Maewe. Unless your fate is sealed, you will not hear my family name. My father is a man of some importance, and one of the founders of our special _club_. He is quite taken with your appearance, but there is no accounting for his taste. I was surprised at just how obviously he was cheating at cards, trying to win you. I had to win, just to frustrate him." Her bell-like laughter rang across the large empty room.  
  
"I suppose I am to be your guard and your handler. Perhaps even your final arbiter. We could have been very good friends, but you are not my taste. _Pity_."  
  
A number of people walked into the room. They all wore livery, men and women alike. Some pushed carts laden with bottles, snifters, glasses, and ice buckets. Others carried in large platters of food and small trays of delicacies. The bulkier men struggled with large mahogany and maple gaming tables, roulette wheels, buckets of chips, and packs of cards and dice. One woman swung a small incense diffuser at the end of a fancy chain. Large bunches of flowers were brought in after crystal vases were put into place.  
  
"As you can see" Maewe added, "You're here at an auspicious time. It's game night." She laughed again, grabbing a crab puff from a passing tray. "I _so_ adore game night." She did not elucidate.  
  
Kaname used the silence as an opportunity to look about the room. She had no way of telling just how large it was, or how far it extended. Mammoth windows looked over a darkened expanse, mysterious in its total lack of definition. At the very least, the room was double-L shaped, the corners of the room very far apart.  
  
"It is truly amazing what money can do" Maewe chirped, nibbling on a small French pastry. "That glass was designed for aquariums and high pressure research facilities. While the designers probably never gave thought to such a characteristic, it is completely bullet proof as well. Small and large caliber rounds might chip it and ruin the view some..." She sniffed, giving her opinion of that. "But, armor piercing rounds will prove no danger." She left Kaname's side, walking over to one of the drink carts.  
  
_Bulletproof?_

Why should THAT be so important. Just what did Kaname find herself in the middle of this time?  
  
"I'd offer you a drink, but your hands will remain tied for a little while longer." Maewe had returned, a crystal goblet in hand.  
  
"My, that is quite a lovely brooch." She reached out to fondle the jewelry, accidentally twisting one of the ornate flower petals. The microphone was now active.  
  
"Oh! I was afraid I had broken it. Just another touch of class, adjustable parts. I'll have to get something like that made for me. Much more impressive, of course." The woman grabbed Kaname's ropes and hauled her to her feet.  
  
_She was very surprisingly strong.  
_  
The lights behind the glass went on. Kaname was speechless for a moment, trying to make sense of what she saw. Everything on this side of the glass was so fancy, so elegant. Everything on the other side was so large, so imposing, so dreary.  
  
Brick walls, some intact and some partially crumbled, ran haphazardly across the floor of what appeared to be a huge warehouse. Old and new looking cabins, roofless houses, and small offices dotted the area, seemingly moved here intact. Wood plank bridges, metal scaffolding, ropes, and nets were commonplace, situated at various heights.  
  
There looked to be pools of machine oil...bins of metal scraps...huge rolls of parchment-like paper...stacks of lumber and copper pipes. Broken portions of huge shipping crates were outnumbered only by numerous barrels, some empty, and others leaking unknown materials.  
  
"What?" was all Kaname could say, her mind trying to integrate everything she was seeing.  
  
"Well, I must admit it does not have the charm of the Colosseum in Rome, but it serves its purpose beautifully." Maewe paused and nodded to a group of well-dressed women who had made their way into the large room.  
  
"There are other arenas too..." She waved her hands towards large banks of plasma screen TVs covering various areas of the walls. Some were flickering to life, showing other similar enclosures. "But this one is where all the _fashionable_ people hang out."  
  
With a long stilleto-like knife, she cut Kaname's bonds. "There are enough people around now. I can afford to be charitable. But, I hope you do not abuse my good nature." She removed a small chrome-plated pistol from her purse.  
  
Kaname began to put together a scenario that left her feeling weak and light-headed. "Sousuke." She shivered, hoping she was wrong.  
  
"Yes. That rather intriguing beau of yours. He is causing quite a buzz amongst the betting crowd. Of course, there is no chance of his surviving too long. But no one has any idea just how long he _will_ last." Maewe looked Kaname in the eye. "For your sake, I hope he lasts a good while." Her smile would not have been out of place on a hyena.  
  
"Why? What does this all have to do with _me_?" Kaname was afraid she knew.  
  
_"First"_ Maewe replied, holding up a single finger, "You need to be alive in case he demands to see you. _Second,"_ she held up another finger. "There is still the unlikely chance that he might actually be the last man standing. If that were the case, you both would get to live. You would even receive a sizeable amount of money to buy your silence. We wouldn't get many good voluntary competitors if we made our victors disappear or broke our promises."  
  
Maewe walked all around Kaname, looking her up and down. "I suppose there is a third reason as well," she sniffed. "You might serve a purpose in one of the local brothels, the ones with no chance of escape. Or, if you prove convincing enough, one of the wealthy men or women might favor you as a mistress or concubine."  
  
The number of people entering the room..... the majority of whom wore fancy clothes or outlandish outfits..... was increasing rapidly.  
  
"Let's go stake our claim to some of the good seats," Maewe said, a strong sense of enthusiasm in her voice. "You're _not_ going to want to miss this."  
  
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx  
  
Sousuke wasn't used to this kind of street.  
  
Turnabout's fair play. The street had not seen Sousuke's like before.  
  
Neon lights were everywhere. The noisy teeming mass of humanity came in all shapes, sizes, ages, sexes, and races. Roadside vendors hocked cheaply made wares. Drunkards looked for handouts. Hookers plied their trade. Pickpockets prowled about, looking for the unwary. Policemen looked the other way. Street musicians added to the general cacophony.  
  
A rather serious looking young man with a facial scar and a large duffel bag did _not_ stand out.  
  
The pickpocket had marked Sousuke. Grabbing what he thought was a simple wallet, he ran triumphantly into the crowd. The young mercenary pushed a button on his belt. The transmitter sent out a signal that detonated the pilfered item. Sousuke shook his head. He might have found a better use for that later.  
  
A drunkard waited until Sousuke passed through a dark and lightly populated area. He approached with a half empty bottle and a concealed butcher's knife. Things did not go as he had planned, either. His intended target took a significant step towards convincing the man to sober up.  
  
Sousuke pushed the bottle halfway down the inebriated man's throat.  
  
Sousuke's look didn't actually scream _'look at me, I've got lot's of money.'_ That didn't keep a trio of street walkers from surrounding him and rubbing their hands up and down his body. Sousuke was in no mood for delays. When one woman asked him if he liked what he saw, Sousuke flayed her to the quick with his reply.

"If I were to waste my time and money on a woman of no value, shouldn't I at least look for one who is attractive?"  
  
His thoughts went to Kaname. There was only _one_ attractive woman who mattered to him, and she was in peril. He had no time or desire to deal with riffraff and gutter trash.  
  
The hooker attempted to slap the impatient soldier across his face, but her wrist was caught and roughly broken.

"I would also look for one who is _not_ stupid." He shoved the women out of his way.  
  
There was a loud whistle.  
  
Four large men, all dressed in black shirts and suits, moved to block Sousuke's path. "Keep him there gentlemen. I believe he needs some instruction in manners, and how to treat a lady." The speaker wore a large flat velvet hat, looking as cliché as such a hat possibly could. His coat and tie were a vivid magenta. His shoes were gold, and his polished wood walking stick was topped by a carved silver dragon.  
  
Sousuke turned to face the pimp. "It would be in everyone's best interest if I was _not_ delayed."  
  
"Oh! _My my my_. Should we shiver in our shoes, gentlemen?" The pimp threw his hat to one of his girls. He took out a comb and fixed his hair. A small derringer-like gun dropped from up his sleeve down into his hand.  
  
"Perhaps he will be more respectful after we give him a massage. Make it rough. Very rough." He snapped his fingers and the large men walked slowly towards their intended victim.  
  
Sousuke recognized a number of Mithril operatives dressed in street clothes, mixed into the crowd across the way. With subtle hand gestures, he asked them to keep their distance.  
  
Without warning, he swung his bag in a vicious arc, connected with the side of the pimp's head. The fancy man slammed hard into the ground, unconscious. The other four men looked surprised at first, but then became very determined. They moved to surround their target.  
  
If it had been a deserted alley way, he would have shot the men and moved on to more important matters. He could not afford to be delayed by the police or carted off to jail. The martial arts training he received through Mithril instructors would have to suffice. That, and the tooth and nail skirmishing he grew up with in Afghanistan.  
  
One enforcer reached Sousuke ahead of the others. His fate gave the others pause. An arm was not meant to move in that fashion, or to that anatomical point. His shoulder painfully dislocated, the man began to scream.  
  
A kick to the head silenced him.  
  
The other three men looked at each other, then charged as a pack. They stayed close together purposefully, intending to use their shear weight to bring Sousuke to ground the way a group of lionesses drags down a Cape Buffalo. Their opponent rolled hard at their feet, knocking them down in a cumbersome tangle.  
  
A savage chop across the trachea of one man changed his priorities, as he quickly grew blue in the face. A fierce kick to the groin left another man retching. The third man made it to his feet, drew an wicked looking knife, and took up a well-balanced fighting stance. He managed a shallow slash along Sousuke's arm as the younger man jumped heels first. Sprawled awkwardly on the ground, he watched helplessly as a fist sent him to dreamland.  
  
"Tell your friends they should _not_ expect this kind of charity if we meet again. It would be to all of your advantages to stay out of my way in the future. I am not usually this forgiving." Sousuke headed off in his intended direction.  
  
There were no further mishaps before he reached _The Happy Crane_, a mahjong parlor and gambling house. A large crowd surrounded that establishment and similar ones up and down the busy street. The man at the door, toothless and near hairless, bowed as the young man approached. "Welcome to our humble store, young master. How may I help you?"  
  
His eyes went very wide when Sousuke showed him the invitation he had been sent. "Right this way. They have been expecting you. I am to inform you that there is time for a girl or a game of mahjong, should either be to your liking. That, and any manner of fine food and drink you might wish. Otherwise, I am to show you a mural that will be to your liking."  
  
_A mural?_ Sousuke could not fathom the intent behind that word. "I wish to reach my destination as soon as possible. I do not desire to be distracted. Please lead the way."  
  
The old man, dragging one foot as he walked, cleared a path through the noisy crowd.  
  
Live roosters filled cages and lugubrious goldfish swam in ornate bowls, prizes for the younger crowd. The parlor rooms were filled past recommended capacity. A fair number of matches were in progress, and money changed hands for many different reasons. Pretty girls sat on patrons' laps, and a small corner bar did good business. Smoke, perfume, food odors, and the stench of unwashed bodies mixed.  
  
_The noise level was tremendous._  
  
Making his way into a dark and narrow corridor, the guide led Sousuke to a better lit area devoid of patrons. A beautiful mosaic mural filled the back wall, depicting a scene from feudal Japan. The old man rapped on the wall and pulled a small rope, causing a bell to sound.  
  
A few moments later, a panel slid upward, revealing a simple metal door. The old man inserted a key into the lock, turned it, then pushed open the door. Two nondescript men in well-cut suits waited just past the threshold. They bowed to Sousuke and gestured that he should follow them.  
  
_He did.  
_  
The passageway lead to rickety old stairs, which in turn descended down into a narrow tunnel. Walls lined with bricks and crumbling mortar, the tunnel was lit by a series of oil lamps. It veered here and there, but mostly followed a fairly straight course. The older construction gave way to plaster walls, cinderblock, and electrical lighting. Sousuke and his companions had to wait at each of a number of locked metal gates.  
  
_Men with guns and walkie-talkies were present at each checkpoint.  
_  
Finally, the tunnel gave way to another flight of stairs, this one headed upward. At the top of those stairs, the men took up station and motioned for Sousuke to keep walking. He did so, stopping when he was met by a short and broad man with a salt-and-pepper goatee and a pinstripe suit.  
  
"Mr. Sagara, is it not?" The man smiled when Sousuke nodded his head. "We are all so very pleased that you chose to join roster of competitors. I hope you had no trouble finding your way here."  
  
Sousuke held up one hand abruptly, causing the well-tailored man to frown involuntarily. "Miss Chidori. How is she? I will need to see proof that she is alive and unharmed before I go any further." The sheer authority in the voice of someone so young caught the man off guard.  
  
"I hope for your sake that she is fine." The look on Sousuke's face would have brought the Devil himself up short. The man felt a trickle of sweat run down his back. This was certainly invigorating. Unpleasant, but invigorating.  
  
"We anticipated your request. I can assure you that she has been well taken care of. If you will step over to this small room, there is a television monitor and a telephone. They will provide you with all the proof you need." The man pushed a series of buttons, activating the appropriate cameras and routing systems. He dialed a number on a telephone and handed the receiver to Sousuke.

"Please do not ask any leading questions. Simply satisfy yourself that the young lady is unharmed."  
  
After talking briefly with Kaname, Sousuke indicated that he was ready to proceed.  
  
"The rules and stipulations will be explained to you in a little while. You will be instructed in the nature of our little competition when you reach your holding cell. Each cell has a number of remotely operated doors, each opening onto a different hallway leading to one of multiple arenas. Whenever a door opens, you will have ten seconds before it closes. If you fail to enter a hallway, or do not reach the intended destination promptly, you will be disqualified. You will be considered dead, for the purposes of the game." The way the man said that latter bit, Sousuke had no doubt that his death would be more than a simple game consideration.  
  
"Will I be given any idea what to expect, in regards to my opponents?" Sousuke doubted that he would receive such a boon.  
  
"No. You need remember only one thing. There will be _no_ innocents walking in the arenas. Anyone you see will be your foe. At most, one man or woman will leave the fighting areas. _Alive,_ that is." The man spoke as he shepherded Sousuke along a wide utilitarian passageway, the walls displaying pictures of past winners. Some of the faces were familiar.  
  
One caught Sousuke's attention. _Gauron._ He paused, unable to tear his gaze away.

"Do you know that man?" his host asked, stopping, a quizzical look on his face.  
  
"Yes," Sousuke said. "We had met on a number of occasions."  
  
The man smiled. Nothing like a little inside information. The young man would be worth betting on. "I see. His was a most memorable match. In fact, afterwards, he somehow managed to become a charter member of our club, after a few older members suddenly fell ill and died. He has not been heard from in quite a while."  
  
Sousuke did not answer. The look in his eyes told the man everything he needed to know. He would be betting heavily tonight.  
  
"Ah, here we are. Your room. Please make yourself comfortable. Someone will be with you very soon. _Good luck!"_ His parting remark was said with complete sincerity. The young man might very well provide him with a windfall.  
  
Looking around the simple room, Sousuke chose to sit on a high-backed chair rather than recline on a spartan bed.  
  
He set down his bag, opened it, and proceeded to check each and every one of its contents. He took a quick look at a picture of Kaname and himself at the beach.  
  
_He waited._

_xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_

Tessa and the Intelligence operatives each whispered a silent prayer of thanks. Sousuke's decision to provide Kaname with a disguised and undetectable microphone was paying _huge_ dividends.  
  
Kaname's personal shadow...... one Maewe...... would likely be Maewe Segawa, daughter of Kazuo Segawa, a wealthy industrialist with rumored connections to organized crime and foreign intelligence agencies. The man had a lot of powerful friends and had been a mercenary in his youth.  
  
His name had been brought up in connection with countless crimes, but nothing could ever be proven.  
  
The young lady had made it a point not to mention her family name, but there were not many Maewes officially listed in Japan. Intel felt good with their educated guess. Despite her personal discretion, the rather talkative girl had no trouble using everyone else's full names as she introduced Kaname around.  
  
_That fact did not bode well for Kaname.  
_  
So far, the names mentioned..... and the voices recorded..... included politicians; captains of industry; gangsters; assorted blue bloods and black marketeers; a notable philanthropist; and even a small number of high- ranking military officials.  
  
Tessa and Lt. Cmdr. Kalinin had difficult decisions to make. So far, they were in complete agreement that the rescue teams would remain on standby. The more names they harvested, the better. Tessa felt guilty leaving Kaname in such a dangerous situation, but the rewards were worth the risk.  
  
Likewise, she was of two minds regarding Sousuke. Should they let him fight? Should they move in before a single shot is fired? The longer they waited, the greater the number of distant leads that could be traced and recorded would be. Some watchers might not even tune into the show until the battles were well under way.  
  
'To make an omelet, one has to break some eggs' Cmdr. Mardukas had put in. Tessa felt extremely nervous. All of the eggs were in _her_ basket. A lot was at stake here.  
  
Instructions were wired in to Sgt. Major Mao and the strike teams.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx  
  
After all of the important guests and patrons were determined to be present, the requisite speeches and requests for donations were made with great verve and aplomb. The crowd was enthusiastic.  
  
_The betting promised to be lively and unpredictable.  
_  
Kazuo Segawa, the noted industrialist and former mercenary, acted as master of ceremonies. For the benefit of the newcomers, the portly but muscular man explained the basics of the competition . Betting regulations were described, leaving no room for uncertainty or misconceptions.  
  
_The excitement grew with every passing moment._  
  
When his fellow founding member had finished his spiel, Shigeo Yamada stood on top of one of the tables, his long gaunt frame looking much longer than it really was. An avid historian, his eyes burned with unholy anticipation.  
  
_This year's theme promised to be rather memorable_.  
  
A number of the TV monitors in the room came to life, showing the opening scenes of the movie _'Gladiator.' _ Others still flickered on, giving the crowd the opportunity to watch the opening credits to _'Ben Hur.'_  
  
"As some of you might guess, the theme for this year's contest is Roman gladiatorial games." Mr. Yamada spoke with a vibrant and captivating voice.

"Our hand picked warriors, the equivalent of the gladiators, are willing to join in mortal combat, spilling their blood on the sand for your admiration and entertainment. As in those ancient days, some of the fighters are criminals and prisoners of war expatriated for the purpose of theses games. Others are violent and deadly men wanting to voluntarily prove themselves the equal of trained warriors. The majority, however, are the _crème de la crème_, shining examples of mercenaries, professional soldiers, and veterans of law enforcement agencies from the far corners of the globe. We are all in for one hell of a main event."  
  
When the crowd ceased in their applause, Mr. Yamada continued. "In keeping with our theme, the main event will be preceded by the _venatio_. The hunt. We will release wild beasts into our arenas. Trained pit bulls and wolves. A pair of leopards. A pride of lionesses. A bull elephant. Facing the dangerous and exotic beasts, the_ bestiarius_ will fight for promised money and for their lives." He pushed a remote control, bringing other screens to light.  
  
"Armed with knives, clubs, and spears, our brave troop of drunkards, pimps, and ne'er-do-wells will provide us all with a wonderful spectacle and a chance for some spirited wagering. Please check under your dinner plates. Those of you with an animal head mark will win tonight's door prizes, fine animal pelts and trophy heads."  
  
_The was an excites buzz passing through the crowd. The feeling in the room was electric._  
  
"Following the hunt, we will begin with the preliminary matches of our competition. But, before we even get to the hunt..... as a first matter of business..... we have an unexpected pleasure for you all. Tonight we will be privileged to start with the _humiliores_, the execution of citizens of lower status."  
  
_There were curious questions shouted from the crowd. There were also a lot of sweaty going on. Just what did he mean by 'citizens of lower status?'  
_  
"In Ancient Rome, the usual forms of execution included crucifixion and burning at the stake. However, as we have fire marshals and men of the cloth with us tonight, we will instead resort to _ad bestias_, the throwing of the condemned to the beasts. This will also serve as a stark reminder to every man, woman, and child present here tonight. Kazuo, I'll turn matters over to you."  
  
"Thank you, Shigeo. I must say that you have outdone yourself this year. Before we begin, I want to stress the importance of discretion. And trust. All of our reputations depend on it. All of your lives depend on it. Every so often, we come across someone who makes a mockery of our good graces and faith. When such men and women are discovered, they are dealt with swiftly and permanently." The pronunciation of that last word was chilling.  
  
"Usually, such matters are kept private. Tonight, it will be public spectacle. Gentleman." Mr. Segawa nodded to a group of burly men who promptly left the room. When they returned, they were dragging two struggling men. "Mr. Gustafson, one of our newest members, turns out to be an investigative journalist. Mr. Adeniji, one of our long-standing partners, was caught in the act of embezzlement. They have therefore forfeited their memberships and their lives. Take them away if you please. Shigeo..."  
  
"Thank you, Kazuo. _LET THE GAMES BEGIN!!!"  
_  
Kaname stood stunned. She felt dirty, just being an unwilling part of that crowd. It was like something out of a nightmare. She kept pinching herself hard, hoping that she's wake up. Her very humanity cried out in sorrow for the men sentenced to summary execution and the poor soul's throwing their lives away for a chance at filthy lucre. Most of all, she was worried for Sousuke. She must use her wits and find some way she could be of service to him.  
  
_She smiled. She knew just the thing._


	3. Chapter 3

Sousuke held the key in his hand, wondering if he could trust the word of the man who just left.  
  
His room would supposedly be locked after he left for any given match, with no one but himself given access. His weapons would all be safe, untampered with. Nothing would be examined, and no unfair advantages would be passed on to any other combatant.  
  
_He would trust the man's word_.  
  
Until he got a feel for the types of environment he would be fighting in, it might prove unwise to carry everything with him. Laying items on the floor, he gave thought to the best arrangement of his combat harness and zip-on ordinance packs and pockets. He would equip himself as if he faced the worst case scenario, a seasoned soldier more capable than himself.  
  
The man, one of the charter members of this despicable club, had given him a brief run down of the game.  
  
The contestants were not all professional. Many of them had killed few if any opponents. Some were mere convicts or petty brawlers. Some were adventurers and thrill seekers. A good many had seen combat, however. And, some were men of secret notoriety---no names were divulged, however.  
  
_'If you see a man, shoot the man,'_ he had been advised.  
  
_'If you shoot a man, kill the man,'_ had been the other helpful advice.  
  
The fights could very well be _mano a mano_ in the corrupted sense of the words---one on one. They could be _mano a mano_ in the truer sense of the words---hand to hand. He would hope to handles things from a distance, but would adapt as he must.  
  
He had also been informed that some choice fights could be a deadly version of _King Of The_ _Hill_, with upwards to ten men in any arena at any given time. A 'Royal Rumble' the club member had jokingly referred to it as.  
  
_'There are no points for style,'_ the man had said. _'Of course, if you want to make us look_ _good, you can put on a show,'_ he had laughed, and Sousuke struggled to keep from shooting him.  
  
There were only a few penalties, all punishable by disqualification. Disqualification equated with death. If a contestant managed to leave the arena before the match is over, he or she would be punished. Sousuke had expected as much.  
  
Any form of signaling device---cell phone, radio, or what not---would lead to disquualification.. That gave Sousuke reason to sweat. He had a miniature receiver tucked well within his ear, tuned in to Kaname's microphone. Turning it on, he heard crowd noise and an unfamiliar woman's voice. It was worth the risk. Kaname might be able to feed him pertinent information.  
  
Any attempt to kill or injure a representative of the club would lead to immediate termination. No surprise there.  
  
Something he heard through the microphone made Sousuke freeze.  
  
_'Now, let's not be a stupid bitch'_ had been followed by the sound of a loud slap and an exclamation of pain. The voice continued, belittling Kaname's attempt to sneak a steak knife off of a table. The young woman had gone on to describe just how precarious a situation Kaname found herself in.  
  
Sousuke had to fight his anger. He had to maintain his calm. A clear head was his most important weapon.  
  
_But, someone had hurt Kaname. People would pay.  
_  
Bit by bit, Sousuke stripped away the vestiges of his humanity. This was a purposeful act, unlike the effects of the medicines he had taken before North Korea. In some ways, that made it all the more frightening,  
  
He was faced with the decision that Rainsford had confronted. His training and his choices would take precedent over his morals. His circumstances would force him to be discard his humble humanity and embrace gross inhumanity.  
  
Zaroff had been driven into the inhumane act of murder by his boredom. Rainsford had been forced to take the place of the big game he had often hunted. That allowed him to understand its fear. That fear pushed him beyond the boundaries of humanity.  
  
This was no game or entertainment for Sousuke. He felt no fear for himself. Love would unleash the beast within him.  
  
_Kaname  
_  
'I have to be cautious,' he thought to himself. 'There is always a time when the accomplished fighter meets his match.' But, that did not necessarily imply the defeat of the lesser man. Serendipity may be the defining factor between evenly matched individuals.  
  
_Impatience and hastiness could prove his undoing.  
_  
_Inspiration could be his salvation._  
  
He grew weary of thought. He was awash with purpose and determination. He wanted to get this thing done!  
  
A message came through on the same frequency as Kaname's microphone. It was Lt. Cmdr. Kalinin. Kurz, Melissa, and the ground troops were at the ready. If the situation seemed to call for it, they would strike immediately if Kaname's microphone went dead, or she made some exclamation that suggested Sousuke had perished. Otherwise, they would move in at precisely 1100 hours.  
  
Captain Testarossa came on the line, wishing him good luck and asking him to be careful.  
  
One of the doors out of his room opened automatically.  
  
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx  
  
Kaname tenderly touched her cheek.  
  
It was very sore, after having been slapped. She was red in the face, but not only as a result of Maewe's response to her attempt at the knife. They had attracted a crowd, many of whom were laughing or smiling eagerly. To her amazement and discomfort, she and her captor were now the focus of one group of wager makers.  
  
_Pigs!!!_  
  
It had been a clumsy and ill advised plan. She needed to do better than that. Her emotions had gotten the better of her. There was no way she could bring herself to watch the two men torn apart by the dog pack.  
  
Utter curiosity had driven her to watch some of the hunt, but she quickly went pale in the face, much to Maewe's delight. The laughter, cheers, and the betting had all sickened her and driven her to follow her impulse. It was stupid. She was more angry at being caught than she was at making such an obvious and cliché move.  
  
The first groups of combatants were now prowling the warehouses and factory area.  
  
Maewe had given her a brief rundown on each fighter. It seemed that the girl had each profile memorized, whereas the rest of the crowd had the option to purchase dossiers on each of the fighters. Sousuke was up next, she had told Kaname.  
  
She should be happy, the other girl had said. He should be the favorite in his first match.  
  
'Where IS Mithril?' Kaname thought. 'Why haven't they shown up? Didn't Sousuke clue them in to what was going on?'  
  
She kept waiting to see holes blown in the ceiling, followed by uniformed men rappelling down ropes, weapons blazing.

_Did they understand the urgency of the situation?_  
  
"So, Sousuke is up next?" she asked Maewe, hoping that someone from the mercenary organization was tuned into her frequency. At the very least, her hopes and plans needed Sousuke to be listening.  
  
Maewe laughed, noting Kaname's trembling. "Yes. Exciting isn't it? What scares you more, the chance that he might die, or the fact that you will see him kill to survive, all in _your_ name?" She gave Kaname a synopsis of Sousuke's opponent.  
  
"A rather nasty and unappealing man. His death will be a service. Of course, it will make your boyfriend a bloodthirsty killer, won't it. It's like virginity. You _can't_ go back. This isn't some rescue at a bank."

_Sousuke's files must be woefully incomplete. Good._  
  
Kaname kept her face unreadable. Sousuke was already a killer. He was _not_ a monster in her eyes. She prayed that the coming struggles would not change her feelings for him.  
  
There were two things that she wanted more than anything else. She wanted Sousuke to make it through this alive. She wanted a shot at Maewe.  
  
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx  
  
As he walked down the long and narrow hallway, the smell of the rancid water leaking between bricks only party masked the growing scent of industrial materials.  
  
Sousuke's mind ran through the highlights of a number of memorable films. _'The Naked Prey.'_ _'Kill or Be Killed.' 'Run For The Sun.' ' The Black Forest.' 'Enemy At The Gates.'_ He shook off such thoughts.

This was no film.  
  
There would be no guarantee of a satisfactory ending. He focused on a more pertinent name.  
  
ABDULKADIR TAYYIP.  
  
_Once a guard at Istanbul Prison..... fingered as one of the men who had brutalized prisoners who were members of the Great Eastern Islamic Raiders, setting off riots, hunger strikes, and hostage taking..... claimed to be a Black Market weapons merchant and a killer for hire..... a man with no redeeming features.  
_  
He would take that man's life, or leave his own life spilling onto the factory floor.  
  
Another? This was nice to know! A second opponent had been a last moment addition, prompting an explosion of betting.  
  
CHARLES RUTHERFORD.  
  
_An employee of Sandline International, the mercenary brokerage firm..... a man who had served in a contingent of mercenaries sent to pacify the situation in Papua New Guinea..... he had been one of the men fingered in Sierra Leone, implicated in the plot to exploit that nation's mineral resources..... his personal redemption had come during his time in Nigeria, fighting to recapture Freetown.  
_  
Both a peacekeeper of sorts, and a scoundrel. The world would not miss him.  
  
A message from Mr. Kalinin came over his receiver. The Mithril data bank had a small paragraph written on Mr. Rutherford. He favored flanking maneuvers, rapid assaults, and rocket-propelled grenades.  
  
He would cut this man's thread short as well.  
  
'Yes. Good questions, Kaname! Careful. Do not seem too obvious.' Kaname felt a swell of admiration for his girlfriend. She was truly remarkable. She was worth more than all of the people spread througout these secret facilities combined.  
  
She had been joined by Mr. Segawa, Maewe's father. Other men and women had become enamored of her once they found out she was the girlfriend of the young man about to fight. It only made sense that she would want to know about Sousuke's opponents.  
  
_Why shouldn't she ask what weapons each man was carrying?  
_  
Sousuke took stock of the situation.  
  
Mr. Rutherford had an RPG-7. Unwieldy. But, he probably has some of the newly developed anti-personnel rounds. Those might be worth the hassle it caused to haul such an awkward weapon about.  
  
He also carried an Enfield SA-80 assault rifle. Yes, different forces had used those in Sierra Leone. But, despite British armed forces claims to the contrary, there were still reliability problems with that weapon.  
  
Mr. Tayyip had what one of the patrons identified as an old Soviet PK machine gun. Light Machine Gun weight, but Heavy Machine Gun power. A good choice for a defensive encounter, but probably a fatal mistake here. He also carried a rather large machete. A strange incongruity.  
  
_There was light ahead._  
  
He stood at the edge of the open doorway, field binoculars at his eyes. The large open expanse of the old fireworks factory contained large rusted lifting equipment and train cars. Newer construction---looking to be relocated lower income housing, temporary shelters, and huge shipping containers--provided cover and obstacles. There was a slight hint of petrol in the air.  
  
Some of the barrels scattered about the floor and large scaffolding cold contain flammable materials or toxic chemicals.  
  
A sputtering of static heralded a message on the factory's old overhead speakers.  
  
ATTENTION COMBATANTS. FOR THIS ROUND, THE TIME CONSTRAINTS ARE AS FOLLOWS. FIRST KILL MUST TAKE PLACE WITHIN TEN MINUTES. FAILING THAT, ALL FIGHTERS WILL BE CONSIDERED CASUALTIES. FINAL KILL MUST THEN TAKE PLACE WITHIN AN ADDITIONAL FIFTEEN MINUTES. THAT IS ALL.  
  
The man Sousuke had spoken with before had neglected to mention that little detail. It made sense, however. This was intended as entertainment. The audience must not be allowed to grow discontent.  
  
Sons of bitches. Sousuke wished that there would be some way to make them pay as well. If his comrades were hard at work, there may well be.  
  
_It was time to move.  
_  
It would not be a huge problem. He had been faced with many situations with time limits and deadly consequences. The other two men faced the same limitations he did.  
  
Sousuke's ace up the sleeve was back in business again. Kaname would earn an island getaway if she managed to pull off this bit throughout the entire contest. She had ever so convincingly painted herself as the frantic and worried girlfriend, jumping at every shot, and filled with endless questions.  
  
They were laughing at her. But, they were answering, puffed up with their own pride and superior knowledge. Sousuke doubted anyone would catch on to the true purpose of her questions. People tend to see what they want to see and hear what they want to hear.  
  
"But why is that large man running along the wall near those train cars? Couldn't someone be hiding inside of those?"  
  
_Good girl!  
_  
"What is that small thing the other man has. It flies! Is that a portable TV he has? Is he cheating? Is someone sending him a message?"  
  
_Nicely put!_  
  
"He's running towards the large man with the bigger gun. He'll probably be killed, right? Then Sousuke will only have one man to fight."  
  
_Keep it up!_  
  
When Kaname saw what she thought was important, she would ask such a question. A number of the men around her would try to be the first to answer her question. Maewe made it a point to sneer at her innocence. Kaname was milking them all.  
  
_Clever girl!_  
  
Sousuke now knew that Mr. Rutherford had a miniature RPV at his disposal. That could even the playing field. If he caught sight of it, he would take it out.  
  
The two men would be occupied with each other. The perfect time to join the fray. Time to up the pressure and possibly force a mistake.  
  
If he had a clear shot, he could use the blow gun, if the situation allowed. It would not give away his position, and the poison ought to trigger a fatal paralysis almost instantly. Otherwise, until he closed the distance, the FN F2000 assault rifle would be his primary weapon. He had tear gas canisters for it, but the 40mm grenades would more likely prove useful. Nothing wrong with a little shock and awe.  
  
In close quarters, he would use the TMP.  
  
The chug of the machine gun and ringing of ricochets did not raise Sousuke's pulse rate. It had a calming effect.

'Yes. Battle. Time to move. Time to kill.'

The answering rifle fire effectively localized the mercenary. He would not play favorites.  
  
Sousuke launched a 40mm fragmentation grenade in the general vicinity of the machine gun fire. A few seconds later, he sent another towards the area of the second opponent. He ran towards the nearest tall cover that would afford him a high view and an easy escape route.  
  
Two explosions echoed about the room.  
  
"Oh my. Sousuke almost got lucky there. Thirty more feet to the right and he would have gotten the bigger man. The other man ran inside that strange two story building. Why doesn't it have a roof? Why would he go some place a grenade could find him trapped?"  
  
_You get an extra kiss when we're safe!  
_  
Thinking briefly, Sousuke chanced two more grenades. It was worth the risk. He had a few more left, and he doubted anyone would figure out that Kaname was essentially acting as his spotter. He saw movement.  
  
Tayyip.  
  
The brutal man had cornered himself, wanting to set up on the high ground. The second grenade chased him out of cover. This would be a simple shot.  
  
"Rocket!"  
  
_Not exactly correct._  
  
But, Kaname's warning was welcome just the same.  
  
Without thinking, Sousuke threw himself off of his perch, jamming his left knee and opening a small gash on his left arm as he crawled quickly inside an upended dumpster. The top of his erstwhile mound of rubble exploded. Anti-personnel shrapnel peppered the side of his hiding place.  
  
_That was too close._  
  
That shot must have been set up by that damn RPV. He looked up and saw a small darting shape. He took careful aim. Three shots ended that threat. If Rutherford still been flying the thing, the second grenade must have missed.  
  
Sousuke checked his watch. Four minutes down already. He suspected there would be an announcement if and when the first kill took place.  
  
Closing his eyes and regulating his breath, he moved all of his limbs. No problems. He was not handicapped in any manner. _Sore_, yes. _Limited_, no. Time to move again. He would flank Rutherford if Kaname pinpointed his location.  
  
"Why doesn't that man charge the machine gunner. The big man's weapon must be broken. All he has is that really big knife in his hand and that pistol. He can't see the man if he's over there, climbing on that rounded railroad car. Why isn't Sousuke attacking anyone? He can't be scared."  
  
It sounded as if that might be the last of Kaname's questions for a while. The novelty of watching Sousuke on the monitors and watching Kaname as _she_watched was wearing off. Someone had shouted, seeing something of interest in the main arena.  
  
"You're leaving too, Maewe? No, I want to stay here. I want to watch Sousuke...."  
  
_Time for a change of plans._

Sousuke had seen the fuel car that Kaname had called attention to. It did not have a line of sight that included Tayyip's position. It was time to buy that extra fifteen minutes. He would need to act swiftly. Rutherford could run along the top of the old train and reach any number of advantageous locations.  
  
Sousuke sprinted, dodging from cover to cover. He heard the subtle clanging of metal. Tayyip had been clumsy. Over there. Near those machinist benches. Pausing by a bank of old rusted lockers used to cordon off one work area, Sousuke removed the grenade launching assembly from the F2000 and replaced it with the non-lethal package. He reached into a leg pouch and pulled out a small rebreather. Its filter ought to be sufficient.  
  
_He ran._  
  
He took a roundabout course, expecting to come up behind his opponent's last known position.  
  
Damn! A large purposeful stack of odds and ends blocked his path, the fruit of the arena designers' planning. There was no time to waste. He would risk climbing. Near the top, he threw himself quickly to the side as two pistol shots caromed off the pile of junk. Sliding down the other side of the stack, he caught a glimpse of Tayyip. He sent a tear gas canister in that direction.  
  
Yes. Success. A loud curse followed by violent coughing. Time to finish this. Time was growing short.  
  
The sound of retreating footsteps was punctuated by retching noises. His quarry must be frantic, unable to mount a calm and effective defense. This would no doubt temporarily change from a fight to an execution.  
  
_There._  
  
There he is. Sousuke raised his rifle to his shoulder and sighted. The first shot brought the man down. The next shot removed him from the competition.  
  
CHECK. WE HAVE FIRST KILL. THE TIMER HAS BEEN RESET. THAT IS ALL.  
  
No time for self congratulation.  
  
The cloud of tear gas would provide some degree of cover for another minute or so. He decided to augment that effect, firing two smoke grenades into strategic locations. Time to move. He would have to choose a direction. Having no idea where Rutherford was, Sousuke needed to locate an area with terrain advantages.  
  
Yes.  
  
_There.  
_  
A number of open doors must lead to smaller rooms. There would be fewer variables to deal with in that type of setting. Would Rutherford realize where he went? Would he follow if he did? There was a danger that the man would just play the clock and wait for Sousuke to come back into the open expanse. No doubt, if that was the case, the mercenary would situate himself in the most advantageous position.  
  
_Where was Kaname?  
_  
He chided himself. There was a job to do. No time to be thinking about her,  
  
He would do this the old fashion way.  
  
He would earn it.  
  
His first step into the first small room brought a boon he had not expected. A faded diagram on the wall detailed the architectural layout of the old factory. The wording was too smudged and faded to make out, but that was OK. He only hoped that the aged item was authentic, and not some bit of misdirection set up by the men who ran the contest.  
  
Yes.  
  
Good news.  
  
According to the diagram, a number of rooms were interconnected, providing a welcome set of possibilities. Some had access back into the larger area. That fact in itself might prove invaluable. Still, he had to keep an eye on the time. His own cleverness could prove his undoing if his opponent did not cooperate.  
  
He could imagine himself, with one minute left on the clock, calling the other man out like a gunfighter in the American west.  
  
'Let's hope it doesn't come to that.'  
  
His current location had a drawback for every advantage. He should check out the doors in this antechamber as quickly as possible. He'd hate to be taken out by a well-placed RPG round.  
  
The far doors were functional, and looked to have been oiled somewhat recently. One led to a storage closet. He did not want to get pinned down in there. Another led back out into the main facilities. A third led to a large locker room, a shower area, and rest rooms. No way out of there either. A couple of doors would not give, seemingly rusted in place. The final door was welded shut. That probably led outside, or to some area the club members used for their own private purposes.  
  
Sousuke knew that clattering sound.  
  
Grenades bouncing across a floor.  
  
_MOVE!!!  
_  
He jumped behind a large pile of broken and dusty office equipment, pulling the remnants of a meeting table on top of him. Two detonations went off in rapid succession, bringing a huge cloud of dust and paint fragments raining down from the ceiling.  
  
'Well, it looks like Rutherford was not content to wait.' Sousuke wished he had brought some plastique and an anti-personnel mine or two. The best laid plans of mice and men....  
  
_Out!_  
  
He was vulnerable underneath the table and debris.  
  
Which door would his opponent come through? Did he have more grenades? Something more powerful? If he could find a barrel of petrol, would he flood the room? If the fire did not kill Sousuke, the smoke inhalation might. Time to make a decision.  
  
_Wait.  
_  
One of the two rusted doors was blown partially open. It was worth the risk. It had better not be another closet.  
  
'Here goes nothing.'  
  
"It certainly looks like things are becoming more exciting over there." Kaname's voice was back.  
  
Soon thereafter, other voices agreed with her claim.  
  
_Good._  
  
"That man had grenades. That's certainly not very sporting. He should give Sousuke a chance. Oh no. Time is running down."  
  
That statement ought to bring some attention back to this encounter. How long could Kaname keep this up? Some of the more brazen observers were mocking her unmercifully. Would her pride crack? Would she say or do something that would earn herself a gag or some physical restraints.  
  
It was a very good thing that she did not likely have her halisen with her.  
  
_Run._  
  
_Squeeze past that door and jump for cover._  
  
Just in time!  
  
More detonations sounded across the antechamber and its adjacent rooms. There were no lights in the room Sousuke found himself in. He quickly put on his night vision goggles and took a small light source out of his boot. The room had a number of doors leading who knows where. Sousuke hadn't had time to memorize the map he was before.  
  
Large shelves lined the wall, holding dilapidated cardboard cartons and sturdier wooden crates. That smell. It was familiar.  
  
_Gunpowder!  
_  
The shelves held old fireworks. Could they still be viable, or had they gone bad? The air was dry enough in here. The smell was even stronger near an old wooden door.  
  
ATTENTION. THE ROOM THAT CONTESTANT SAGARA HAS ENTERED IS CONSIDERED OUT OF BOUNDS. IF THE ROOM IS NOT VACATED IN THREE MINUTES, BOTH CONTESTANTS WILL BE CONSIDERED DISQUALIFIED.  
  
_Damn!  
_  
If he left the room, he would be a sitting duck. Still, this might work to his advantage. It all rested with Rutherford.  
  
"I am _not_ coming out." Sousuke yelled.  
  
"Don't be foolish. We will _both_ die. I give you my word as an Englishman, I will leave and enter the large arena, waiting for you there."  
  
An inappropriate thought at the wrong time: Sousuke thought of a line from _'The Princess_ _Bride,'_ one of his favorite comedy movies.

'Hell. Why not?'  
  
"No good. I've known too many Englishmen!" Let's see if that gets him angry enough to act. No response. Paradoxically, he felt a brief surge of respect and comradery for the man he faced.

He also felt a quick rush of gratitude.  
  
The man must be out of grenades and RPG rounds.  
  
Sousuke quickly went about scattering fireworks around the floor. He broke open a number, scattering the explosive material in makeshift open fuses. He then kicked down the wooden door and entered the next darkened room. There was a huge wooden vat and large wooden paddles. The smell of gunpowder was strong in the room. There was no metal nearby for a good reason. The vat was the source of the odor. A quick swipe of his hand brought up coarse powder, the color of which was unknown in the faint light.  
  
Sousuke did not need to see the substance to know what it was. He did not want to stay in this room.

'If Rutherford would just follow me in here, though. This stuff might still be functional. How could any inspecting agency let this hazard remain.'  
  
Money speaks very loudly, Sousuke surmised. It would have been cheaper to pay a bribe or two than to foot the bill for a massive clean-up operation.  
  
There was a door at the far end. He kicked that down too. Not a moment too soon. He checked his watch. One and one half minutes to go. He heard Rutherford curse, then heard the chatter of a submachine gun as the merc made the decision to take the attack to his unseen foe. Swinging his Steyr TMP around and off of his shoulder, Sousuke sent a wild spray of bullets at the floor of the first dark room.  
  
_Sometimes it is better to be lucky than to be good....  
_  
The fireworks ignited, filling the one room with a blinding rainbow of colors and a whistling cacophony of sound. Rutherford reacted instinctually, rushing forward into the vat room, spraying his submachine gun fire across every possible area of that are.  
  
Sousuke was no longer in that room.  
  
A grenade he had tossed into the vat still was.  
  
The explosion knocked down most of two walls of the vat room and collapsed the ceiling. A huge cloud of smoke and dust crept into every open space.  
  
Sousuke's coughing was the first sign he was still alive. He had been knocked momentarily unconscious. He grimaced, suffering from a loud rush of tinnitus. He could make out Kaname's voice, but had no idea what she was saying.  
  
Brushing himself off, he surveyed his surroundings. Had he been standing a few feet to the left or a couple of yards to the right, he would have been crushed under a great deal of cement, metal beams, and wooden planks.  
  
IF ANY ONE MAN REMAINS ALIVE, YOU ARE OFFICIALLY DEEMED THE VICTOR. IF YOU ARE BOTH ALIVE, YOU ARE EACH DECLARED THE LOSER. ATTENDANTS ARE NOW ENTERING THE ARENA. DO NOT TAKE ACTION AGAINST THEM.  
  
Sousuke could barely make out what have been said. More because of the debris between him and the speakers than as a result of his temporary hearing impairment.  
  
Sousuke doubted that Rutherford could possibly have survived that. His major concern was structural integrity. Hopefully nothing more would collapse.

_Time to find a way out of there.  
_  
His hearing came back completely. He heard whistling and wild applause over his receiver. But, at least one person was not cheering. Maewe was very much upset. She wanted to know just what had triggered that explosion. How could the defining event occur off camera?  
  
"Someone would have to pay for this," she groused.  
  
The betting was frenzied. Everyone wanted to know who the victor was---if anyone survived.  
  
A single word touched his heart.  
  
He heard Kaname whisper his name.


	4. Chapter 4

The room was in an uproar. Kaname could barely hear herself think.  
  
One group of patrons was cursing, slamming their fists on tables and walls, throwing around torn up ticket stubs.

_They had bet on Sousuke's opponents.  
_  
Another group was ecstatic. One woman, obviously rather drunk, danced precariously close to a table edge, oblivious to the scuff marks she left on the table top. No doubt she had taken a chance on Sousuke.  
  
_The payback was rather significant.  
_  
Gray-haired otakus were shaking their fingers in each other's faces, some condemning the match for its lack of obvious bloodshed and the paucity of good old fashioned gunfire. Others shouted back, happy with the novelty and the unexpected use of an RPV, tear gas, and a catastrophic explosion.  
  
The RPGs were worth a few style points as well.  
  
Maewe continued to be as unpredictable as usual. _First,_ she called for Sousuke's blood, holding him personally responsible for the fact that the coup de grace took place off camera.  
  
_Next,_ she changed her stance, realizing just how much money she had won. That mood was short-lived, changing yet again when her father and Mr. Yamada joined her. A quick check of the grounds had shown significant external damage and a single small but obvious plume of smoke.  
  
_The damage was not the concern_.  
  
Despite the club's contacts in the police force and fire company, someone might seize upon the chance to investigate the occurrence. The level of damage control would need to be unprecedented.

_There was a very real risk of discovery._  
  
"We should tie the son of a bitch to a post and use him for a shooting contest," Maewe spat. "Better yet, we could send him into the arena with that girl." She looked at Kaname, a sickly sweet smile on her lips.  
  
"We could give each of them a gun. We'd let the survivor leave. Bygones would be bygones. If they refused we could raffle off the chance for a winner to take a gun and hunt them down. Better yet, we could hold an auction. That ought to recoup some expenses."  
  
Kaname was already too numb to feel much fear. She had already grown to hate Maewe to the point that she could despise her no more than she already did. As worrisome as the banter was, she felt relieved.  
  
_Sousuke was still alive_.  
  
The moments she had waited before the game attendants confirmed that fact had seemed like an eternity. She had thought she knew just how much Sousuke meant to her. She had underestimated herself again. Without him, her life wouldn't have much meaning.  
  
_She loved him so much_.  
  
Maewe, her father, and Mr. Yamada continued to vent, but their opinions did not go unopposed. A number of other founding members had joined the fray, stating the obvious. There was no way to tell who or what had caused the explosion without talking to the survivor.  
  
Besides, it had been the club's decision to use the fireworks factory without a thorough clean up. They realized that the bigwigs could make any rules they wanted during the tournament, disqualifying any fighter at their whim. But, that might not sit well with the majority of club members. The last thing anyone needed were whispers of impartiality..... favortism..... or suspicion of a hidden agenda.  
  
The debate gradually became one sided, as general patrons continued to add their opinion. Sousuke had become a crowd favorite.  
  
Thinking furiously, Mr. Yamada came up with a way to satisfy both camps. The idea was embraced with rabid fervor and universal praise. Kaname, practically speechless, was the lone dissenter.

_Of course, her opinion didn't count_.  
  
Quietly, she seethed. If it looked like she was destined to die, she would take as many of these people with her as she could. The thought shocked her at first. But, she was Sousuke's girl. Some things were bound to rub off on her.  
  
_Sousuke's next match would be spectacular._  
  
He would be sent into the arena alone, the beneficiary of a twenty minute head start. Ten other fighters would be sent in afterwards. Up until the time that their prey was killed, they would be cooperating, part of a team. The man or woman who took out Sousuke would be excused from the remainder of that round. The other survivors would continue the match as usual, each man for himself. Unless by some miracle the young man reigned victorious, the round would see two winners.  
  
The crowd would get to see their new favorite in action again, in a wonderfully precarious situation. Those wishing for his death would be satisfied. So many winners.  
  
"Of course," Maewe added, feeling generous. "If that son of a bitch manages to survive, all will be forgiven."  
  
It didn't sound as if she thought that was likely.  
  
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx  
  
Tessa was furious with the things she had heard over Kaname's microphone.  
  
Lt. Cmdr. Kalinin remained calm---he had seen so many things in the course of his career, very little could lessen his opinion of the human species.  
  
Cmdr. Mardukas sat quietly, after asking whether or not they had used enough eggs for their 'omelet.'  
  
"We are in the middle of a large number of traces," an Intelligence operative mentioned. "Our success ratio has been astronomical. The longer we can continue, the more participants we can identify. We are faced with a rather large prize here. From a moralistic standpoint, we can finger a large number of otherwise unassailable men and women. Additionally..... though I feel _dirty_ even mentioning it..... Mithril needs every advantage it can get these days. There are those members of our organization who could make very good use of our findings for blackmail purposes."  
  
"I suppose what we need to determine is what is worth more to us as a group...to Mithril as a whole...and to the world in general." Tessa's fury had quickly changed to resignation and self-loathing. "Just what value do we place on Sgt. Sagara? How much is Miss Chidori's life worth? Will the information we gather and the influence we gain make up for their loss?"  
  
The debate continued for a while, each participant playing the role of Devil's advocate.  
  
"I would propose what I think is a reasonable compromise." Mr. Kalinin stroked his beard, his eyes intense and his jaw set. There were times when he hated command. "Intel will orchestrate continued efforts at information gathering. As it stands now, we do not know precisely where Sgt. Sagara is. When he enters the ring again, we will be assured of his exact location, as long as Miss Chidori continues to serve as a successful transmission source. I propose that we wait until he is in the arena before we start our strike. Ground troops can be sent in to rescue Miss Chidori..... combat any effective security forces..... and contain the patrons. Sgt. Major Mao and Sgt. Weber can be sent into the arena after Sgt. Sagara."  
  
"I vote we accept the Lt. Cmdr's plan," Mr. Mardukas said, no sign of emotion on his face.  
  
"I agree, gentlemen. One thing is for certain." Tessa was smiling again, a feral look in her eyes. "Those bastards will get a show they will _never_ forget."  
  
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx  
  
Sousuke had finished applying the antibiotic cream and had sutured his own minor flesh wound. He was almost done with his bandage work.  
  
_He was very worried._  
  
True, the arrangement for the next contest was decidedly unfair, but that was not his chief concern. He had once again managed to get the lowdown on his competition by listening to the patrons talking. What had him on edge was the fact that Kaname's microphone was no longer transmitting anything useful. All he could pick up was a muffled crowd noise.  
  
The turn of events would have been annoying by itself. The fact that the untoward occurrence followed a brief cat fight between Kaname and Maewe could have any number of connotations.  
  
Had the pin with the microphone been knocked off of or ripped from Kaname's clothing? Had the directional features of the device somehow been knocked off kilter? Could Kaname be unconscious or worse, laying on top of the pin?  
  
_It had happened so quickly_.  
  
Maewe had been ragging on Kaname all evening, but his girlfriend had wisely chosen to keep her mouth shut. When the industrialist's daughter wondered aloud what it might be like to sleep with Sousuke, she had exploded in raucous laughter at the look on Kaname's face.  
  
She went on to tease Kaname further, saying that she would raffle off Sousuke's services to all of the interested ladies present. That number should be quite large, she claimed, referring to the effect that gladiators had on the women of Rome. Some of them had been idolized as heroes, often to the dismay of husbands and paramours.  
  
_'Suspirum et decus puellaum,'_ she had said---'the sigh and glory of all the girls.'  
  
When Maewe asked how Kaname would feel when Sousuke chose some other woman over her, Kaname could no longer hold her tongue. "At least it won't be _you_. You probably have to buy your men. Or, have them kidnapped for you. _Loser!"_  
  
"Now it _will_ be me. Whatever it takes. You pathetic schoolgirl. What do you have to offer him, besides blue hair and a pointed chin. I'll have one of our surgeons sew your eyelids open so you can watch. _Bitch!"_ Maewe had been close to screeching.  
  
There was no indication who threw the first punch. The sounds of the altercation came through clear enough, both women yelling at the other, crying out in pain, or landing loud slaps. Kaname had no chance when Maewe called out for assistance.  
  
By the sound of the urgent argument between the angry girl and a number of unknown men, Maewe must have had her gun at Kaname's head. The older girl had broken free of restraining hands and put some hurt on Kaname. It was at that time the sounds coming in through the microphone changed.  
  
Sousuke was worried, but there was nothing he could do for Kaname now. The only way he could serve her was to stay alive. Maewe was now at the top of his 'to do' list, assuming he survived.

_He had other people to worry about first._  
  
Picking up a small pad of paper, he began to go over the notes he had scribbled down while Kaname coaxed Maewe and various patrons out of useful information, prior to the imbroglio.  
  
MEMBA THISIS MDLADLANA.  
  
_Mercenary. South African native. Operative for Executive Outcomes, a Private Military Company which had contracted him to a Canadian mining firm in Uganda. An ex-member of the SADF, he had killed a good many Ugandan rebels. He had gone on to do similar 'peacekeeping' work in a number of other African nations. He was fond of various assault rifles. Up close, he preferred combat shotguns.  
_  
ROBERT "MAD BOB" FREDRICKSON.  
  
_Thrill seeker. Man's man. A veteran of various dangerous jobs. Armored Car Guard. Smoke Jumper. Coal Miner. Alaskan King Crab Fisherman. Electrical Power Installer. He had paid large sums of money to take part in "back woods" mercenary training camps. This was to be his graduation exercise.  
_  
PAEK YONG-KWAN.  
  
_Started as a gang member in Taiwan, attached to the United Bamboo group. A successful drug runner, he contracted out to North Korea and went on to work for them in the Portugese enclave of Macau. Rumored to have planted a bomb that downed a South Korean Airliner. Thought to be involved in the selling of missile technology to Pakistan and Iran. Fond of submachine guns and explosives.  
  
_REEDY SMITH.  
  
_Wanted cyber-criminal, responsible for wire fraud, illegal possession of sensitive files, repeated scrambling of telephone grids and defense networks. Caught by the cyber-sleuth Tsutoma Haraguchi, a member of this very 'hunt club.' Chose to fight in order to win his freedom.  
_  
MAJEED AL-MUGHASSI.  
  
_Ambulance driver in Palestine. One time bodyguard for members of the Saudi Royal family. Falsely convicted as a member of Abu Nidal group. Escaped from prison, signing on to do freelance mercenary work wherever money was available. No jobs were unacceptable.  
_  
DMITRIOS ANDROSOUPOULUS.  
  
_Mass murderer. One of the top men on International Wanted lists. Reputed to have killed over one hundred women in Greece and Cyprus.  
_  
JEAN-PIERRE DELADIER.  
  
_Caporal-chief in the French Foreign Legion, stationed with the 3e Demi- Brigade de La Legion Etragere in Djibouti. Deserter. Had been brought up on charges of cruelty and suspected killing of vanquished enemies. Served as a guard, officially, in Luxembourg, Comoros island, Kinshasa, and Quebec. Left a long list of concurrent criminal offences. Last employed as a fitness instructor for Club Med in Morroco. Favored the FAMAS assault rifle.  
_  
KAREL VAN DEN BROECK.  
  
_Daughter of mercenary parents. Started off as a school teacher. Worked as a prostitute in the Zeedijk area of Amsterdam until she was brutally assaulted. Took justice into her own hands and fled the country. Took up the family business. Specialized in taking out wealthy male corporate owners for rival business men. Very good at making deaths look like 'natural causes.' Expert sniper. Good with explosives. Adept at poisons.  
_  
GIANFRANCO MORO.  
  
_One time UN Peacekeeper. Grew tired of being a highly trained soldier pretending to be Ghandi. Dissatisfied with blue berets and white trucks, he went on to work for Defense Systems Limited out of London, providing security services to international miners, industrialists, and oil businessmen. Rumored to have been involved in the kidnapping of one wealthy man he had contracted on to protect. Black Market Arms runner and occasional soldier for hire.  
_  
MATAYOSHI RYOJI.  
  
_Wanted for questioning in connection with Tokyo Sarin attacks. Implicated in the shooting deaths of two police officers and the murder of a notary republic.  
_  
He could not afford to take this group for granted.  
  
True, none of them would likely have lasted more than a minute against Gauron. But, given the limitations of this competition, and the large number of opponents he would be facing, any one mistake might prove his last.  
  
Lt. Cmdr. Kalinin had sent him a message, detailing their change in plans. But, that had been before Kaname's microphone signal changed. They must have heard the same things he did. How would they interpret the situation? Would this change their plans? When would they strike?  
  
There was no telling how long he had before the door opened again. It was time to finish his preparations. The bag would be heavy and unwieldy, but he was taking everything with him on this trip into the arena.  
  
Fortunately, the last fight had used up little ammunition. He had a sinking feeling that every shot might count this time.  
  
There was nothing to do now but wait.  
  
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx  
  
The M9 was rocking.  
  
No doubt about it.  
  
Kurz had seen the explosion rock the old fireworks factory. He saw the sooty plume of smoke snake its way skyward. Inspiration hit. This would help pump him up.  
  
_'Turn your radios on, I'll be right there, yes I will  
  
'Turn me up real loud, I'm in your ears, ah  
  
'n' I'm hangin' ten now baby, as I ride your sonic, ooh wave  
  
'(good God y'all)  
  
'I'm on fire  
  
'I'm on fire  
  
'I'm on fire  
  
'I'm on fire'  
_  
Vintage Van Halen blared forth from the speakers. Kurz had his air amp cranked up to '11.' Today's music just didn't shred like this! Oh yeh!  
  
Naturally, Melissa chose just that moment to patch into his communications system. He ignored her call signal. There was a killer guitar break to groove to. There was some singing to do.  
  
"Oh yeah, one time. Fire...fire...fire." He pressed back against his seat, singing as he played air guitar.  
  
"Damn it Weber, turn that _shit_ off!" When Melissa had that tone of voice, it was best not to push her too far. Kurz hit the pause button.  
  
"C'mon, Sis. Have a heart. Some times a man just _has_ to rock! Besides, that song was in honor of Sousuke. I'll...wager...that little explosion was caused by our favorite sergeant." Kurz chuckled. It was always good to see Sousuke's proclivity for destruction turned on the bad guys.  
  
"Kurz! This is no time to be joking about gambling. Not when Sousuke's life is in the hands of those cold-hearted motherf-ckers! Stop the foolishness, now. We'll be going in soon. Do I make myself clear?!" Melissa must really be worried. Her voice had a slight wavering character to it.  
  
"You _bet_ your ass, babe!" Kurz smiled. Chew on _that_ one, Sis..  
  
The noise that came through on Melissa's line was indecipherable at first.  
  
"Weber. My foot. Your ass. Hard. Soon as possible. _Count._ _On. It."_ Those last words all came through clear enough. Kurz smiled even wider. Even though Sousuke wasn't here, it was still like old times as long as he could get Melissa riled up.  
  
Of course, she would never thank him. But, she did better too, when she had the juices flowing.  
  
_Kurz Weber. Martyr and philanthropist. No one ever knew the sacrifices he made.  
_  
"Listen up, pain magnet. I have the latest from the Da Danaan. When Sousuke gets into the main arena in the back warehouse, we move in. Our job is to get him out. First and foremost. After that, we can chew up anyone else we see in that arena. We will also coordinate with ground spotters, ripping apart any trouble too big for them to handle."  
  
Kurz crossed his fingers, hearing that. He was in the mood for some action tonight.  
  
"Fire a test capsule into the ground a few yards in front of your Arm Slave. Make certain your detectors can pick it up. We might not be able to locate Sousuke quickly enough by visuals."  
  
"You got it, Sgt. Major. Kurz Weber, your obedient slave, hurries to obey!" Turning a calibration knob, Kurz primed his gamma detector. He turned on the HUD and toggled a small green set of crosshairs. A powerful burst of compressed air fired a small tracer capsule into the soil in front of his M9. Pushing a series of buttons, he brought a eerie green grid up. A small red dot pulsed on and off.  
  
"Check on the visual, Sis." He pushed another button. A sound came on his speakers, a monotonous series of beeps. Manipulating the controls of the Arm Slave, he moved the machine back a few paces. The beeping became less frequent. He took a few strides beyond his original position. The beeping was louder and more frequent. "Ditto on the audio, babe."  
  
"Good. We _might_ make a soldier out of you yet." Melissa laughed. Kurz waited for the other shoe to fall. What? Nothing more. That couldn't have been a compliment, could it? "Shit! Who am I foolin'?"  
  
_OK. There was balance again in the universe._  
  
"Well, babe. I'm always available when you want to _make_ a soldier. Oh yeh!" What would her reply be? Cursing? Moderate likelihood. 'In your dreams?' Possible, but unlikely. She knew his answers to _that_ one. Another promise of pain? Yes. That was his bet.  
  
"Shit. Either you bumped your head or you're dreaming. If you're lucky, you just might make it back to the sub in one piece after I'm done with you!"  
  
Kurz chuckled. A triple-header. Melissa was in fighting form for sure. Time to get back to groovin.' He pushed the play button.  
  
_'Lay your bodies down, I'm in your beds, your beds  
  
'Put your headphones on, I'm in your heads, ah  
  
'n' I'm hangin' ten now baby, as I ride your sonic, ooh wave....'  
  
"Good God, y'all. C'mon Sis, sing along! I'm on fire......I'm on fire......I'm on fire"  
  
'I'm on fire  
  
'I'm on fire  
  
'I'm on fire'  
_  
The song faded out. Kurz smiled at Melissa's parting curses. It was time to get ultra-serious, now. No time for screwing around.  
  
He needed to pick out the next tune.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx  
  
"You are _so_ dead!!!" Maewe slapped Kaname without any fear of future repercussions.  
  
The other girl's arms were held tightly by two cronies, so there would be no chance of Kaname getting in another lucky blow. There was blood at one corner of Miss Segawa's mouth, courtesy of a fierce swing of Kaname's purse. One of her teeth felt loose. A very expensive diamond earring was missing.  
  
"What? Are you planning on killing me _twice_ now?" Kaname was too enraged to feel frightened.

_No one except for Sousuke had gotten her anywhere near this angry.  
_  
"I'm not surprise that some puffed up little princess needs two bootlickers to hold my arms. Does your Daddy know just how big a loser you really are? I heard he was a mercenary. He probably had to earn whatever he's gotten." She smiled a large smile, her swollen lips oozing small drops of blood. It would have been less explosive to pour kerosene on a fire.  
  
Maewe took her slender-bladed knife out of her purse.  
  
There was a wall of her people around them---nobody would see what would happen next. She thought about carving hthe blue-haired girl up first, getting a visceral thrill from splitting Kaname's nostrils or puncturing the globes of her eyes.  
  
No.  
  
She was too impatient  
  
_A quick stab in the heart would suffice_.

Her friends could carry Kaname out after that, telling anyone who cared that she had fainted from all of the excitement.  
  
"Maewe darling, it seems that you grow more lovely every day." Kaname had never heard that voice before. "More lovely, and more impatient. If you are going to be a sociopath, you will get so much more satisfaction from savoring the opportunities that life presents you with."  
  
The speaker was a muscular young man in his early twenties, impeccably dressed in expensive European clothing. He too walked with an entourage of yes men and hangers-on.  
  
Kaname wouldn't have thought that Maewe's face could have looked any more contorted than it already was. The knife in her hand, Maewe whirled to face the speaker, nearly spitting with each word she spoke.  
  
"Reginald. I didn't know there were big enough rocks around here for you to live under. Why the hell did you decide to slither out into the sunlight _now_?" Obviously the two knew each other.  
  
"You know me, Maewe. I'm a well-established a connoisseur of beautiful things and a _true_ champion of justice." Sarcasm practically dripped from his tongue. "This lovely young lady's fine fellow may yet win our charming little game. It would be a travesty to take away the very prize he has been promised. Had you been more sophisticated or subtle, you might have enjoyed her discomfort and pain during the next deadly match. Instead, you have lost the prize all together." Reginald turned to Kaname.  
  
"Where are my manners? The terrible treatment of such a lovely young lady has gotten me all turned around. I should introduce myself. My name is Reginald Smithers, of the _Manchester_ Smithers. How would you like to be my guest ?"  
  
"You w-wouldn't dare!!!" Maewe stuttered, her anger tripping her tongue.  
  
_"W-w-w-wouldn't_ I?" Reginald mocked her. "Do we have to go back to that same old lesson, my sweet?" He turned to Kaname, speaking as if Maewe wasn't there.  
  
"You see, dear Maewe has a rather unfortunate self esteem issue. Unfortunate for her, but quite amusing to the rest of us. It's true, she often gets her way, because of who her Daddy is. But, as it turns out, Ace beats King. My father is the one man who has nothing to fear from Mr. Segawa. Or, to be honest, he has less to fear than anyone else. I know, let's you and I go talk to her Daddy. That should be worth a titter or who."  
  
"You stupid son of a whore!" Maewe had to be restrained by some of her toadies, all of whom were looking a bit uncomfortable. "One day! One day I _will_ get you. When I end up owning you, I will sell you to a Turkish brothel. After I cut off everything remotely male."  
  
"So very melodramatic. I truly hate it when you feel helpless. You _know_ I do, don't you?" Reginald laughed and looked over at his followers, who all burst into laughter as well.  
  
"Dear Kaname? It is Kaname, isn't it? I don't want you to miss out on the sweet and savory details of Maewe's and my relationship. Can you guess what it might be?" Reginald's smile was the best that money and good dentists could create.  
  
"You took her back to the pet shop because she couldn't be paper trained? She's resented you ever since?" Kaname made it a point to lift up her chin and stare at Maewe. Reginald applauded and quickly replied, interrupting whatever Maewe had wanted to say.  
  
"Marvelous. Oh how very marvelous." Reginald laughed, bowing to Kaname. "That's all true. But, let's keep it our little secret. That's not what I was talking about. Care to offer another guess?" He looked out into the arena. Sousuke's form could be seen running, doing a quick check of the battleground.  
  
"You'll want to hurry. It looks as if the fight will start fairly soon."  
  
"Blackmail?" Kaname asked, her voice cracking ever so slightly.  
  
Sousuke!  
  
"Brains as well as beauty. See, Maewe? It _is_ possible!" He waved his hand, as if brushing away an irksome insect pest. His followers all whistled or hooted in derision.  
  
"Yes, my dearest father has secreted away highly damning information about Maewe's Daddy. If anything happened to my father, the information would be released. If anything happened to me, my father would likely do the same out of grief and anger. Naturally, I simply detest such dirty methods. But what can I do?"  
  
"One of these days, you son of a bitch. I..." Maewe sputtered to a halt after Reginald threw a glass of wine into her face.  
  
"Oh, how clumsy of me. Did you get that on film, Celia?" In response, a dark haired girl held up a digital recorder. "Guess we'll have to add that to our collection. It's almost ready for internet sales. But enough about that. Have you given my offer any thought, Kaname? Would you care to join me, or would you prefer to stay with Miss Segawa?" The look in Maewe's eyes made it quite certain who she would take all of her anger and embarrassment out on.  
  
"I suppose I must choose the better company." Kaname said, bowing to Reginald.  
  
"Splendid. How simply splendid. Let us retire to our room. The large screen TVs provide a wonderful view of all corners of the arena. After just chiding Maewe, I'm quite ashamed to find myself impatient---there's something I must ask you now. Do you dance well?" His eyes showed an evil gleam.  
  
"What.... I...." Kaname was caught off guard.  
  
_"Naked?"_ Reginald's look needed no explanation.  
  
Kaname had no answer as she was led away.  
  
Given all of the events, she didn't realize that she was missing a very important piece of jewelry.  
  
_The pin with the microphone sat face down under a table._


	5. Chapter 5

Sousuke moved quickly and purposefully, assessing and reassessing the battlefield environment within the main arena.  
  
_Twenty minutes_.  
  
In some ways, it was the blink of an eye, a scant amount of time to enjoy the rest of his life. In other ways, it was an eternity, plenty of time to reconnoiter, make plans, set up traps, and reach his chosen location.  
  
The bag bounced heavily against his back.  
  
Its weight was taxing and restrictive, but he blessed that weight. The items he had packed would prove quite useful, and the weight would lessen with every trick and trap that he set.  
  
His thoughts, likewise, were a heavy burden. But, as he confronted each one, he threw it aside, no longer troubled by it.  
  
_Kaname._  
  
There was so much they could share together if they escaped with their lives. His feelings for her would get him through anything that was humanly possible. Woe betide anyone that stood in his way.  
  
_This was personal.  
_  
He thought back to Afghanistan and countless other battlefields. Friends he'd lost. Foes he'd killed. Whatever lessons they offered, he stored away. The emotional baggage he flung aside. Morality. A soldier's honor. The code of battle. The nobility of The Cause. Those had absolutely no pertinence here and now.  
  
Life or Death. _That_ was what was at stake, nothing more.  
  
_Kaname must live_.  
  
He was good at killing. It was a fact, and little else. He took no pride in his talents, but was grateful for them when the need arose. Nevertheless, something new stirred inside him.  
  
_A challenge._  
  
Some part of him eagerly embraced the notion. A measuring stick. Just how good was he? Some part of him needed to know.  
  
_A means to an end.  
_  
Deep inside, in a part of him he never examined , a small bud on his soul grew to blossom. The enticing smell of vengeance excited him. If he made it out of the arena, someone would pay. If Kaname had been injured, they would pay with their lives.  
  
The primal part of him must be smiling. Sousuke didn't care. This time, he would be an anumal with a purpose.

_He would be all the more dangerous._  
  
There was no fear. Danger was his bread now.  
  
There was no worry. He was now the embodiment of Death and Inevitability.  
  
Purpose? Purpose coursed through his veins. Purpose pulsed with every beat of his heart.  
  
Who did he face? He knew that answer. He had judged the level of threat each offered.  
  
_What was the greatest threat?_

The woman. The sniper. If she was allowed to establish her position unchallenged---and unseen---it would only be a matter of time before he took a bullet.  
  
How would he coordinate their forces, were he on the other side? He would send the criminals and less competent out first, use them as dogs to flush out the game. They would be the hounds of Zarloff. Of course, there might be no cooperation among such men. The kill would earn the killer a pass. Their pride and sense of self-preservation would prevent them from being used to the benefit of others. No doubt, it would be every man and woman for himself or herself.  
  
Where should _he_ start out? Where were the optimal places to use his significant but limited resources? That was what he was working on now.  
  
The lighting in the arena varied from zone to zone. Some areas were brightly lit, looking as if the afternoon sun lay straight overhead. Other areas were dark, practically unlit. In between, the landscape took on the look of twilight.  
  
Paths moved through each type of area. Tall structures, places of concealment, and large open stretches were equally spread throughout the arena. In the center of the large expanse, a number of short and squat chimneys stood.  
  
Kilns. They were lit and operational, belching forth clouds of thick dark smoke. Even though the clouds grew thinner as they reached upward, the smoke would obscure the view of certain areas.  
  
The arena was relatively quiet now.  
  
Soon enough, rifles, machineguns, and explosive devices would break that silence spasmodically. As he quickly ran along the paths he made that certain his footprints could be seen to lead everywhere. 'It looks as if attendants had raked the paths after the last battle.'  
  
Sousuke noticed that there were areas where the ongoing noises could serve as a cover. Old but functional conveyer belt systems from the factory were set up, moving their surfaces tirelessly. The strident panting of well worn motors was complimented by the squeaking and squealing of poorly greased pulleys and bearings.  
  
Large and small cranes and lifts were most likely operational. They would tempt men with overactive imaginations and a penchant for unrealistic action films.  
  
The air smelt stale for the most part , but there were still lingering smells of gunpowder and other explosives. Every so often, he came to areas where the smell of blood was strong. Bodies had been removed, but large areas of blood stained the path or made grotesque splash marks on the surrounding metal, brick, and wood.  
  
The stench or rot and decay permeated some of the darker areas, where old wood and burlap lay decomposing. Some areas had a strong industrial smell, and those were the ones that Sousuke sought out first. Good. Whoever had fought here before probably not been given a sizeable head start, and no doubt had little time to use the environment to his or her advantage.  
  
There were a large number of full barrels of oil and gasoline products.  
  
Grunting, his injured back flaring up with pain intermittently, Sousuke opened barrels in strategic locations, spilling the contents on areas his foes might want to cross. Finished, he placed the empty containers out of site. He placed small amounts of plastic explosive near the flash points, keying their micro-detonators to a certain frequency on his trigger pad.  
  
He checked his watch.  
  
_Twelve minutes gone._  
  
Time to kick it into an even higher gear. Stopping to catch his breath, he sifted through his bag, taking stock once more. Yes. He had a good spot marked out for his anti-personnel mines and C4.  
  
Running again, he placed his remaining plastic explosive in areas where large and small items of many types lay precariously stacked. They would make wonderful deadfalls.  
  
_Excellent. His own attempt at Rainsford's Malay man-catcher.  
_  
Finished with that task, he carefully concealed a number of particularly dangerous mines.  
  
In the late 1990s, most of the countries of the world signed or ratified the Ottawa treaty abolishing the use of anti-personnel mines. The USA, Russia, China, and India did not sign. Sousuke's signature was also absent from said document.  
  
All of his mines were the fruit of Mithril's labors. Half of his stock were smaller but more deadly versions of the tried and true Claymore mine. His could be set to be triggered by sound, movement, pressure, vibrations, or remote detonation. He set each to whatever manner best suited its location. The remaining mines were jumpers, also with multiple means of triggering.  
  
_Those ought to be just as surprising and as deadly as Rainsford's Ugandan native trick._

He saved two for future placement.  
  
Finished with his traps, Sousuke ran towards one of the two 'towers' he wanted to explore while time remained. Seeing a number of large deep pits, he halted dead in his tracks. Was there time? He would try it and see!  
  
One series of pits was near any area he had soaked with petrol. If he could make them look like the ground, they would be a tempting place to run for anyone trying the avoid a sudden conflagration. The selling points for his plan were a pile of large tarps and a small dumper car filled with dirt and rubbish. Sweating, and occasionally grunting in pain, Sousuke spread the tarps across the pits. He pulled hard on a lever, emptying the small wheeled hamper of its contents, which he then spread over the top of the pits. Good. It would suffice.  
  
_His own version of Rainsford's Burmese Tiger trap_.  
  
He checked his watch.  
  
Damn. Time was running out. There would be no chance to check out the view from the two towering piles of materials he had narrowed his choice down to. He would have to choose one, climb it, and set himself up for his first task.  
  
_That one._  
  
Not only was it the tallest, but it had a view of three out of the four tall structures on the opposite side of the arena, the area where he was told his foe would be enter the playing field. He hoped it wasn't too wobbly, or overly difficult to exit when the time came to move.  
  
The 'tower' appeared to be constructed by a haphazard stack of structures and housing from amusement parks and miniature golf establishments. It rocked and swayed as he climbed, making the ascent slower and more exciting than he had hoped for.  
  
The top of the structure consisted of a small replica of a turreted castle, complete with arrow slots and crenulations. That was his destination. Pulling himself up, he noted that the set-up was not entirely random. Small metal fragments and parts of various machines and structures lay everywhere. They were easy to dislodge, and they made a terrible racket as they fell, bouncing off the larger metal and wood structures below.  
  
At the top, he moved some rusted metal panels around, using them as shielding. He found his best vantage point, sat down, and took out a pair of high power binoculars---they had a built-in infrared detector, small but of some value at this distance.  
  
_Almost time.  
_  
He HAD to get that sniper. He MUST do it before the other members of the opposition ascertained his location and cut off his chosen escape routes.  
  
His actions needed to be orchestrated perfectly. He needed to stay on the attack as much as possible. As soon as his choices were limited to defense alone, he was likely a goner---maybe not right away, but sooner or later.  
  
He thought of another one of his favorite short stories, Liam O'Flaherty's _'The Sniper.'_ It had pitted two snipers against one another in 1920s Dublin, at the heart of the civil war. He would not need to worry about the tragic ending in that story, where the one sniper found that the man he had killed was his brother.  
  
THE CONTEST WILL NOW COMMENCE. THE MAJOR PRIZES AND RULES HAVE BEEN ANNOUNCED. THERE IS AN ADDITIONAL PRIZE. FOR THE MAN OR WOMAN WHO KILLS SOUSUKE SAGARA, MISS SEGAWA HAS OFFERED A PURSE OF FIFTY THOUSAND EUROS. SHE WILL DOUBLE THAT AMOUNT IF MR. SAGARA'S HEAD IS DELIVERED TO HER INTACT. BEGIN.  
  
Sousuke had visions of the movie version of _'The Most Dangerous Game,'_ namely the scene with Zaroff's grisly trophy room. He knew what Kurz would have said had he been there with him.  
  
'Sousuke old chum, try not to lose your head.'  
  
He grimaced. Would Kurz and Melissa get there in time? Could he pull this off alone if they did not?  
  
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx  
  
Kaname's head was spinning.  
  
_First,_ the near death experience with Maewe. That total nut case!  
  
_Second,_ being shown amongst Reginald's wealthy friend as if she were some kind of trophy. Sousuke's girl. Reginald's special 'guest.'  
  
_And then,_ the announcement. Money offered for Sousuke's death. And his head!!! This all reminded her of a television show she came to enjoy while staying in America---this was like something out of The Twilight Zone. That alone had her worried. That show was _not _known for happy endings.  
  
"Kaname dearest, what do you think of this room? My father had it made up for me last year, sparing no expense. The wood is all endangered, smuggled out of each and every rainforest on the globe. Most of the species are banned, but they polish up so beautifully, don't you agree? What good is wood in trees? Who sees it there?" The cronies all nodded their heads or vocalized their agreement. Many had made it a point to buy paneling for their own homes made of similar woods. Reginald paid them little head, running through various camera angles on the large wall-mounted television.  
  
"Of course, it will mean you'll have to dance shoeless. That's a shame, actually. When shoes are the only thing a woman wears, it's so _very_ enticing."  
  
Reginald's soft almost calm voice had coaxed Kaname into speaking. "Actually, I'm not much of a dancer. Two left feet I'm afraid. So, the table will be quite safe. I'll just sit here with you, watching the show." She hated using that word. This was no show to her.  
  
"Well, I must say that I am rather disappointed. That leaves me with only two choices. I suppose it would be unkind to simply return you to Miss Segawa---I absolutely hate doing anything that _she_ likes. No, it would be better to loan you to my friends as a party favor, so to speak. That means you will miss the show, since we can't have all that grunting and moaning interrupting the audio feed." He waved his arm around the room.  
  
"What a shame. All of these screens are 80" Samsungs, the largest Plasma TVs in the world. You would have just loved watching the picture while you danced."  
  
"Y-you have been such a charming host and rescuer, that I would hate to disappoint you." Kaname flinched, realizing just how desperate she sounded. "If my dancing would make up for your inconvenience, it would be rude of me to refuse."  
  
"Ah! I _knew_ I had judged you correctly. What a fortunate man Sousuke is, to have had such a wonderful woman while he lived. Please, step up onto the table." He called his hangers-on, knowing they would be heartbroken to be excluded from the spectacle.  
  
"I've sent Celia into my on-site CD selection to find some suitable music. I suggested a bolero or three. I do have a couple of CDs of belly-dancing tunes, if you prefer that...." Reginal's smile made Kaname wish she could give him reason to visit a plastic surgeon.  
  
_"Oh yes!_ A dance of the Seven Veils!" One of the toadies was getting overly excited.  
  
"What? Try _not_ to be so moronic," Reginald retorted. "Please take yourself off the premises, your very ignorance unsettles me."  
  
He turned to talk to Kaname as two attendants dragged the babbling man away. "The dance of the Seven Veils is only associated with belly dancing by the unlettered and the uncouth. Oscar Wilde's play fictitiously had Salome do such a dance, but it was not meant to be seductive, as your dance will be. Right?" Reginald looked Kaname up and down.  
  
"Richard Strauss's opera did make the dance provocative for its day, as barely clad women of Middle Eastern descent were popular in the pornography of the time. Women of oriental descent can be quite fetching too, can they not?" His look left no doubt that he expected an answer.  
  
"Uh...yes, they can." Kaname felt as if she were about to start sweating heavily.  
  
"Oh! I should apologize. How utterly insensitive of me. I NEVER should have mentioned Salome. I hope you can forgive me." Reginald did not look in the slightest bit remorseful.  
  
"Forgive you?" Kaname, looking down at him from the table, was perplexed. What was he talking about?  
  
"Yes. As you know, Salome was the daughter of Herodias, sister-in-law to Herod, with whom she had an adulterous affair. They divorced their spouses so they could marry. Their act was condemned by John The Baptist. When Salome danced for Herod, he was so moved, that he said he would give her anything she asked for. She wanted John The Baptist's head, and it was delivered to her on a tray." He shook his head.  
  
"What with Maewe's challenge and all...." He hid a smile behind his hand. "But enough talk. The hunt has commenced. So too should the dance. Let's make this fun. For every minute that passes, you will remove one more article of clothing. When Sousuke kills an opponent, you may choose to put one garment back on---_if you wish."_ He clapped his hands together, as if ordering a servant or a slave.

"If you please." It was an order, not a request.  
  
Kaname began to dance, not feeling the slightest bit excited to be doing a tantalizing act in front of men.  
  
'Sousuke. You _better_ kill them all fast. VERY fast!!!' Her thought shocked her. She was uneasy wishing for the deaths of others, even if they were all bad men and women. But, she reminded herself it's them or Sousuke.

_She wanted Sousuke to live._

Yes.  
  
She regained some of her spunk, and put the energy into her dance  
  
'If you live, but take your time, you are going to wish you _had_ died!!!'  
  
"Madame Captain, it appears that we have a problem." Lt. Cmdr. Kalinin held the written transcripts given to him by Lt. Concepcion. "Miss Chidori became embroiled in a heated conflict with Miss Segawa. At some point, her microphone ceased to transmit useful material. We have waited an appropriate period of time with no change."  
  
"I see. Has she been severely injured? Do we know why the transmissions changed so drastically?" Tessa put down her half empty can of chilled coffee. "What was the latest information pertinent to Sgt. Sagara, prior to the end of transmissions?" Her eyes grew very intense.  
  
"We have no way of knowing Miss Chidori's condition. Our best guess is that the microphone was damaged or knocked some place inconsequential. The latter could have occurred while it was attached to the wearer, of course. As for the sergeant, we have no way of knowing when his fight was to start, or whether it is currently underway." Mr. Kalinin did not show the slightest hint of concern or annoyance. It was as if he were carved from a block of solid granite.  
  
He did not verbalize his final thought.  
  
'We do not know whether or not Sgt. Sagara remains alive.'  
  
"That does present us with a problem. What do you suggest, Mr. Kalinin? How long would it take for our fine fake fire fighters to infiltrate the premises?" Tessa referred to the ground troops, dressed in actual uniforms supplied promptly by one of their contacts in the JSDF. The presence of a small fire and a disproportionately large cloud of smoke provided a suitable strategem.  
  
"Once the signal is given, it should take no more than ten minutes for enough of them to make their way to strategic locations within the main buildings. Other men, dressed in street clothes or police uniforms have all of the obvious escape routes covered. I would recommend that we start the operation immediately." The Lt. Cmdr. Accepted a cup of tea from the petite young woman.  
  
"Once we have word from our infiltration group, I would suggest that we send the assault troops in through blast points in the roof. At the same time, we should send the Arm Slaves in. We have a number of vans, buses, and trucks ready. Our guests will be moved to suitable locations as soon as they are extracted."  
  
"That approach seems reasonable, Mr. Kalinin. Please see that it is implemented as soon as possible."  
  
"Certainly, Madame Captain. May I make use of your intercom?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
The operation was set in motion.  
  
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx  
  
Sousuke had manhandled the heavy HK PSG-1 into place, making use of its tripod. The gun might be a chore to carry, but it was a dream to shoot. Highly accurate. Semi-automatic. No need to work bolt action. It might not be Kurz Weber's gun of choice, but it suited the younger sergeant just fine.  
  
He placed a number of 5-round clips of 7.62 on the ground within easy reach.  
  
Timing, enemy speed and pattern of advance, and his level of success would determine how many of the clips he would use. He might not remain at this height for too long once the exchange of fire started. He made certain to conceal all motion behind solid walls.  
  
He made no noise.  
  
His heat signature should be well-contained.  
  
_Movement_.  
  
To the left.  
  
Down low, at ground level.  
  
He marked the man's position and progress, but kept his eye out for activity higher up. The man did not carry anything other than an assault rifle. He could wait. The sniper, Miss Van Den Broeck, must be located. He refused to believe that she would join in on the frontal assault without first trying to make use of her skill as a sniper.  
  
_More movement._

Another man at ground level, this time to the right. No rocket launchers or RPGs. He would be ignored for now, too.  
  
_Even more movement._

Another man. Those three were not subtle. They acted as if they believed they were under good cover, but they were not. They moved slowly and cautiously, but they were the first enemy seen. No doubt they were the non-professionals and criminals. They let their desire to make the kill---and their mistaken belief that they had what it takes to be successful---lead them into a precarious situation.  
  
They should have followed the more capable men, watching, learning, and taking advantage of their combat instincts. Soon enough, they would pay for their inexperience and rash decisions.  
  
A fourth man drew attention to himself, peering from around a stack of tires. He did not pay attention to the environment. He had kicked up a large cloud of dust, giving away his position. Suddenly, he made a dash for cover, running low behind a large row of crates. He stopped in the shadow of one of the deadfalls.  
  
Sousuke removed his remote. This would not give away his position. He pushed switch #6, exploding the C4, causing the multi-ton structure of metal parts to fall into the area the man had chosen for his sanctuary. No chance for survival there.  
  
_One down._  
  
Nine to go.  
  
At least out here.  
  
The crash of steel upon steel echoed about the arena. The three visible men all threw themselves underneath the nearest cover. One man realized his mistake too late. The smell of petrol was ever so strong. When Sousuke flipped switch #3, the small explosive ignited the fuel-saturated ground, setting a large area ablaze. Screaming, the man barely fell out of the inferno, covered from head to toe with greedy flame. He stopped moving soon thereafter.  
  
_Two down._  
  
It was not a loud sound at that distance. But it was distinctive. Metal bouncing off of metal, multiple times. It spoke of height. It gave an idea of direction. It allowed Sousuke to be looking at just the right place at just the right time.  
  
He realized just how fortunate he had been. The woman had not gone for one of the highest vantage points. She had chosen a mid-level mound with good coverage. No doubt she was going to be patient, allowing the men to flush her quarry into view. All she needed to do was crawl into position. She had chosen to start moving during the noisy collapse of the deadfall.  
  
_Clever.  
_  
It would have been better to have waited for another masking noise.  
  
She had made a mistake, or had simply been bitten by misfortune. There was no antidote. Swinging his rifle around promptly, sighting precisely. He fired three shots in rapid succession. He saw the woman's head jerk back abruptly. That should have been a hit.  
  
She should have had no inkling to move her head like that voluntarily. Her hand lay sprawled over the edge of the mound.  
  
'I am _not_ a corporate head. I am a SPECIALIST.'  
  
His mind flashed back to the happenings in _The Sniper_. The victor had played dead, and had slumped his arm into plain view, tricking his unwary opponent. Unlikely here and now. The first bullet would have gotten there before the first retort did.  
  
'If I missed, then I deserve to die.'  
  
_Three down_.  
  
Things were going better than he had expected. He would not be cocky, however. There could still be another sniper, for all he knew. Or someone willing to watch and wait. An opponent need not be a top marksman to get lucky. He could track his team's position....watch his fellow combatants fall...and take out Sousuke when the moment was right. He would need to plan his movements accordingly, as best he could.  
  
'This is nothing unique.' It is just like other battles he had been in. If anything, he had been in greater danger in the past against more desperate and more skilled opponents.  
  
Those first two men had obviously not understood just what had happened, from a tactical viewpoint. After the loud noises had ceased..... and they had regained their courage..... each had renewed his advance. They did not appear to be wearing anything bulky. Likely they did not have body armor. Heart shots should suffice.  
  
Two shots.  
  
Two more kills.  
  
_Five down._  
  
'Nothing else visible. My position is no doubt compromised now. Time to move.'  
  
Sousuke reached into his bag and withdrew three smoke grenades. He tossed them some distance in front of his 'tower.' When the smoke had created enough cover, he shouldered his bag and climbed carefully to the ground.  
  
Time to get up close and personal.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx  
  
Kaname continued to dance.  
  
She closed her eyes, trying to picture herself somewhere else, with someone else. She opened her eyes every so often, whenever thrown money bounced off of her. A number of people in the crowd were hooting or clapping rhythmically. A number kept yelling _"Take...it...off...bay-beeee!"  
_  
She was more angry than embarrassed or afraid. She should be doing this voluntarily, for Sousuke. Not under duress, for a bunch of high brow scum! If he could get her out of this, he would receive a pleasant surprise.  
  
She grimaced.  
  
Sousuke was sure taking his time getting started! She had already been obliged to remove her blouse and skirt.  
  
'Why did I choose today, of all days, to go out without socks or stockings? The ankle bracelets did _not_ count.'  
  
Kaname was getting uncomfortably close to the unbearable, followed not too thereafter by the unthinkable. When Sousuke collapsed the large structure on one hapless enemy, she felt a chill wave of relief pass through her. She put her blouse back on. Not too much later, another opponent met a fiery demise. On went the skirt.  
  
"You _GO_ Sousuke!!!" she yelled, surprising herself.  
  
The men in the little assembly let out a collective sigh. Some of the women clapped or smirked.  
  
"Ah, just when it was getting interesting," Reginald chirped, not seeming in the least bit concerned. He could afford to be patient. "But, good things are worth waiting for, are they not, Kaname love?"  
  
Kaname felt her skin creep at his choice of words. Just what did she have to look forward to? She stopped that train of thought swiftly. As long as she was alive---and Sousuke was still breathing---there was reason to hope.  
  
_Right?_  
  
"If Sousuke kills another man while I'm fully dressed, do I get a rain check?" Kaname felt bold enough to speak up, shocked at the casual manner in which she asked her question.  
  
On the large screen TVs, Sousuke could be seen firing three shots. The camera perspective quickly switched, showing the effect that 7.62 rounds had on a woman's head.  
  
"I must apologize, but that certainly would _not_ be sporting. If you feel the need to blame someone, blame young mister Sagara. He appears to be much too talented to bet against." Reginald laughed, his mood soon picked up upon by his guests and servants.  
  
_'SOUSUKE!'_ Kaname thought.' I'll blame you alright. _just you wait...."_  
  
She stumbled, her calf muscles beginning to tighten up. Softball, swimming, and other physical activities had not prepared her for this.  
  
"Dear me. I _do_ hope you can keep on dancing, Kaname. If not, you will have plenty of time to rest those pretty legs.......... flat on you back." Reginald made no attempt to hide his amusement. The crowd began chanting his name. He stood and took a bow. More whistling and hooting ensued, punctuated by the sound of wine glasses clicking against one another.  
  
Sousuke chose two more targets. Two more lives were promptly erased. The camera operator zoomed in quickly, planning on showing the resultant carnage. The crowd was disappointed. There was far too little visible bodily injury to suit their taste.  
  
Where was the unspeakable thrill in simply seeing two men fall lifeless to the ground. One might as well watch longshoremen toss sacks of potatoes around. The death by immolation had set the bar fairly high.  
  
Reginald, after sending one crony to bring in fresh trays of finger foods and beverages, took time to say "There he goes again, Kaname. If he was as good a lover as he is a killer, you were _quite_ a lucky young lady."  
  
Kaname could not help herself. She missed a step, and her foot slid perilously close to a table edge. Her blush would make a beet seem bloodless.  
  
The "lover" had caught her more off guard than the "were" unnerved her. Her dancing continued, the seconds seeming like days  
  
"Time!" Celia called out after another minute had passed.  
  
"What will it be, Kaname dearest? Blouse or skirt?" Reginald smiled. "Don't let the pace slow you down, though. Feel free to take off as much as you want as soon as you are ready. No matter, it appears that your boyfriend is moving rather cautiously now. Good for him. Better for us."  
  
Kaname let her skirt fall to the table top.  
  
'Damn you, Reginald. _Damn you Sousuke!'  
_  
"Oh, and Kaname, wiggle those delicious hips more, if you will. It gets the juices flowing in a most enjoyable way. The battle feels so much more primal, mixing bloodlust with erotica." Reginald's 'request' was met with shouts of glee.  
  
Kaname came dangerously close to refusing or making and inadvisable smart- ass remark. She caught herself just in time..... the result of such a misstep left little to the imagination.  
  
_There was the sound of a significant disturbance outside of their cozy room._  
  
"What IS that inconsiderate rabble up to?" Reginald asked, distracted. "Aki...... Sambo...... do go see what all of the hubbub is about. _Be quick about it!"_  
  
_The noise grew louder_.  
  
People could be seen running past the doorway, jostling for position. "Where are those fools?" Reginald said to no one in particular.  
  
"Jakinson, you find out the answer. _GO!"_ He snapped his fingers and a heavy- set balding man walked quickly from the room.  
  
"Time!" Celia laughed, a small kernel of concern crooking her smile.  
  
"Kaname, blouse." Reginald's words were cut short by his unease.  
  
Kaname was fuming. She was growing rather tired of all the indignities. She squirreled away every slight and insult.  
  
_Somebody would pay_.  
  
"Mr. Smithers, there are intruders in the building." Jakinson had returned rather promptly. "The are said to be dressed as firemen, but are carrying weapons. They are headed this way. The security team won't slow them down for long."  
  
The statement was initially answered by shocked silence. Soon, a quiet and concerned babbling could be heard, replaced by everyone speaking their concerns all at once. People began standing up. Many began heading for the door.  
  
Kaname smiled. Her prayers had been answered. This game would soon be over. Could those 'firemen' be Mithril soldiers?  
  
"Kaname, my sweet, do not stop dancing. After all, when the Titannic was going down, the musicians continued playing." Reginald turned to face the others, trying to project an aura of absolute calm.  
  
"There's no need for rushing off, my friends. Where would we go, any way? The only way out is the way they are coming in. Besides, whoever they may be, no doubt they will be open to negotiations when large sums of money are involved."  
  
Reginald's reassurances proved ineffective. A majority of the men and women made their way out of the room. He grew furious, beating at the table top with his fists, causing Kaname to momentarily lose her balance. "I will remember _EACH AND EVERYONE OF YOU_. Celia, write down all of their names. _Now!"_  
  
"Time!" Celia said, looking for a pad of paper. She had lost her smile. Her eyes kept darting towards the doorway.  
  
"Well, at least there's _that_." Reginald said with false bravado. His hands were trembling ever so slightly. Kaname noticed and smiled. She wasn't the only one under stress now. "It will certainly be a treat for we sturdy few. Kaname, bra or panties?"  
  
Kaname swallowed hard. She looked once more towards one of the giant television screens, hoping to see Sousuke down another fighter. No such luck. He was still working for position.  
  
"Yes Kaname, please continue." Maewe's voice. The young woman stood in the doorway with two of her toadies. All held small handguns.  
  
"What are _you_ doing here? You were NOT invited!" Reginald spoke heatedly, so far having missed the fact that the party crashers were armed.  
  
"You're quite mistaken," Maewe laughed. "I have my invitation right here." Swinging her gun to the side, she shot Celia in the chest, never taking her eyes off of Reginald.  
  
"It's rather tragic, but a number of people will die during this assault on our beloved clubhouse. Those invaders are rather ruthless, it seems." Her smile was rather frightening.  
  
"You. You can NOT be serious. My father will..." Reginald could not believe what was happening.  
  
"Your father will likely be one of the unfortunate victims. I must admit that I got this idea from my father, who swiftly set a number of his plans in action once he learned that we were under attack." She waved her gun in a broad arc. "Everybody against the wall. The last one there will be the next one gunned down."  
  
The remaining persons scrambled over one another, rushing for the relative safety of the room edges. A number of foolhardy men made a rush for the door, choosing to play the odds. They lost.  
  
"Reginald, are your feet glued to the floor? You didn't move." Maewe brought her gun to bear on the sweating aristocrat.  
  
"Maewe, you've taken this game too far already. Stop now, and all will be forgiven." Reginald stammered as he spoke.  
  
Maewe laughed. Her smile vanished quickly when she saw Reginald give a signal via eye movement. She fired her pistol while rolling on the floor, not taking notice as her two henchmen tumbled to the ground. She fired three times, one shot more than was needed. Aki and Sambo fell heavily to the floor. Both lay unmoving just outside the door.  
  
"It's wonderful having an ex-mercenary for a father. When other girls were busy learning how to braid their dollies' hair, I was becoming adept at the use of firearms. Ah, the good old days." She smiled a toothy smile at a quivering Reginald.  
  
"I owe you my _sincerest_ gratitude. If I hadn't caught your signal, Reggie, I'd probably be down there with them." She pointed her nose at her two companions. "As a result, I'm feeling rather generous." With that, she shot her long time rival in the knee.  
  
With the drama in the room being more compelling than the life-and-death show playing on the TV screens, no one noticed Sousuke make his next kills. No one except for Kaname. Slowly, trying not to draw attention to herself, she picked up her blouse and skirt.  
  
Maewe turned and looked at her. "Miss Chidori, I don't recall telling you to get dressed. The undertaker will take care of that later, I am certain."  
  
"But Sousuke," Kaname blurted out. "Two more kills...."  
  
"What? Did any one see that?" Maewe laughed as she shot each and every television in the room.

"I believe you were down to your panties."

The gun pointed at Kaname now.


	6. Chapter 6

"Kaname, why are you hesitating? Isn't this _every_ woman's secret dream?" Maewe laughed.

Kaname didn't answer.

"Well. Never let an opportunity go to waste, may father says. Let's make this more fun." Maewe smiled a self-satisfied smile "Reginald! You get to live a little bit longer. That bandage is taking its good time turning red. I must only have grazed you." She shook her head, wondering how that could have happened. "Walk over to Miss Chidori, and take off her bra with your teeth. You _know_ you want to."

A rather risky idea came to Kaname, either out of a sense of modesty, or as a result of pure inspiration. As soon as Reginald stepped between her and Maewe, she jumped off the table and used the wealthy young man's as a mobile shield, pushing her towards the gun-wielding girl.

Kaname grudgingly gave Maewe credit. She was a quick thinker. Quick to act, too. The older girl threw herself to the floor, gun at the ready, giving herself an unobstructed line of fire. That should have been the end of Kaname, except for the fact that Jakinson saw an opportunity to act and took it.

He flung himself towards Maewe, who was thus forced to change targets. Having no choice, she pumped a pair of shots into the servant's chest and abdomen.

Still dressed only in her undergarments, Kaname made good use of Maewe's predicament, leaving the room in a mad rush. She heard the gunshots behind her. Maewe's voice yelled out _"Bakayarou,"_ the sound chasing at Kaname's heels even as the angry girl remained back in the room.

_This was Kaname's chance.  
_  
It would likely be her only chance.

'Which way? Kaname, think!'

She had to decide quickly. Should she go with the flow of scurrying people, or fight her way against the crowd?

'That way.'

She would go in the direction she had not seen yet, hoping there might be a good place to hide. If she was lucky, the frantic mass of partygoers would slow down Maewe or cause her to search in the other direction.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Sousuke's next kill was simple.

It occurred on automatic.

One of his unseen antagonists had found a Claymore-like mine. It had done him some significant degree of harm, and caused him to stagger into the kill zone of a jumping mine. His remains were not a pretty sight. Few facial features were recognizable---Sousuke estimated the corpse to have been of Oriental descent.

'Most likely Paek Yong-Kwan. He should have stuck with smuggling and espionage.'

Another mine went off in the distance.

_Jumper._

Yet another detonated.

_Claymore_.

There was no way for him to know whether or not either mine had proven effective. They could easily have been triggered by a clever soldier. Two more mines exploded over the next two minutes. One of each. At the very least, they pinpointed the places where at least one enemy had been temporarily: near the center of the large arena.

Carefully peering around a corner, flanked by large wooden crates filled with parchment paper and spools of twine, Sousuke heard the faintest of sounds behind him. Quickly, he stepped within a short narrow crevice between rows of stacked boxes.

_Not a moment too soon._

A man of Arabic complexion, most likely Majeed Al-Mughassi, carefully made his way along the path Sousuke had just walked, his early model Soviet submachine gun at the ready.

More movement. A second enemy, his back turned towards Sousuke, walked along the elevated structure holding one of the large conveyor belts. He was only intermittently visible, seen through the cracks between building fragments and large shipping enclosures.

The near man would need to go first. It would have to be a quiet kill, lest he give away his position while he was still in a less than optimal location. As it was, there was still the possibility that he was under the scrutiny of an as yet identified observer, or soon could be after any gunshot.

He could not afford to be pinned down in his current locale.

Ever so quietly, movements hidden, he unzipped his bag, removing a telescoping blow gun. He extended the weapon to its full length. Opening a small leather wallet, he unscrewed the top on a small phial. He grasped a small tufted dart by the feathers, dipping its point within the glass container.

'Nerve. Nerve,' he thought, remembering one of Rainsford's ways of steeling himself.

Holding his breath, he placed the dart into the blowgun ever so carefully. Swiftly, with an economy of motion, he brought the weapon to his lips...sighted...and blew hard with a truncated explosion of breath.

The dart flew straight and true. It embedded itself in the side of the unsuspecting man's neck. With a grunt of surprise, he started to bring his hand up, intending to remove the small projectile. He moved very little before stopping, falling to the ground in an awkward position.

Cone shells... marine snails prized for their intricately designed shells... produce a potent neurotoxin that allow them to immobilize their much quicker prey. _Conus geographus_, The Geographic Cone, produces the most potent toxin. Delivered in the dose that Sousuke had applied, it caused near instant paralysis, respiratory failure, and cardiac arrest.

Sousuke shook his head. Kurz and Melissa had made fun of 'his little toy.' He judged it to be an unqualified success.

_Time to leave concealment. Carefully. Very carefully.  
_  
Just because he knew the location of another target, he could not afford to grow even the slightest bit careless. Sousuke moved like a flowing shadow, keeping to less well lit avenues of approach, eyes always scanning the path ahead of him and behind him. It was the longer of three possible routes, but he felt confident it was the prudent choice.

Before stepping out into the open, he took a small mirror on a flexible wand out of his bag. After checking various directions from an assortment of angles, he felt confident enough to move onward. Bringing his binoculars to his eyes, he spotted his quarry. The man... most likely of African descent... walked at the far end of the conveyor belt, facing away from Sousuke.

'Mr. Mdladlana, I presume.'

His one side was bloodied and he dragged one foot. Perhaps he had triggered one of the mines.

'This is dangerous,' Sousuke thought. 'I will be exposing myself for a while.'

Still, it was worth the risk. If he were not seen, this trick would not pinpoint his location the way gunshots would. The man was out of range of the blowgun.

'This should work instead.'

Sousuke left his bag on the ground behind him. Holding his last two jumping mines, he climbed up onto the wooden structure, crawling on his belly to the conveyor belt. Both mines were placed upright, set for remote detonation, and sent on their way.

Safely back under cover, with a good view of the far end of the mechanical contrivance, he marked the progress of the two patient and intrepid explosive devices, one located a few feet behind the other. He zoomed in on his enemy's face.

_Good._

The man looked unawares so far. When his mines neared the end of their long straight journey, Sousuke flicked one switch twice. The man's face looked inquisitive at first, the curiosity soon replaced by a look of recognition and panic.

The two mines jumped out of their plastic enclosures, traveling to two different preset heights. At their apex, they detonated, sending a vicious spread of shrapnel raining down on the ex-member of the SADF, severing his thread of life.

_Scratch another off the list.  
_  
The next few moments felt like an eternity to Sousuke. He felt an illogical upwelling of combat paranoia, certain that all eyes were turned on him. Avoiding his own traps, he crept along the path he judged to be the safest. Soon enough, he changed his approach. It was time. He would seek out the two remaining men. Focused, he sought any available clue.

After making his way halfway around the central mechanized area of the great room, Sousuke took note of a prickling sensation at the back of his neck. One of his senses must have picked up some hint of danger. He had long since learned to place all of his trust in that kind of feeling. Placing his night vision goggles on, toggled to infrared, he steeped into a place of deep cover, after making certain it was unoccupied and devoid of obvious booby traps.

His small mirror flashed a brief glimpse of movement, off to the right. Sousuke inched forward on his belly and raised the binoculars to his eyes again.

'Subtle. Very subtle.'

He had been fortunate to catch sight of that motion. . Keeping low to the ground, someone was moving towards the area he had found the tarps and pits in. There was another trail that would lead Sousuke to the same area, more likely than not getting him there first.

_Time to move!_

In little time, he found himself in a thin-walled crate with convenient perforations in the side. Soon thereafter, he saw a man lean slightly out of concealment, a FAMAS rifle barely visible in his hand. That would be the ex-Legionnaire, Jean-Pierre Deladier.

'How good are you, sir? Would you be so kind as to step out into the open.'

By a stroke of good fortune... at least for Sousuke... the Frenchman complied with Sousuke's silent wish.

'Wait. Wait. A bit more.'

Nodding his head, Sousuke pushed a switch upward, detonating a small cache of plastic explosive, setting a huge tower of scrap metal on a slow but inexorable course towards the ground. None of the falling debris would strike his adversary, unless he blundered into its path. No, it would limit his choice of movement, and maybe even herd the man in a direction that Sousuke had thoughtfully chosen for him.

_Perfect!_

The results were just what Sousuke had hoped for.

Not wanting undue attention drawn to the area of the terrible racket before he could vacate the premises, the one time deserter ran towards the nearest point of concealment.

'No, no, go right. _RIGHT_. Never mind. Clear shot! I'll take that first.'

Sousuke concentrated shorts bursts of semi-automatic fire at the retreating form, grazing his arms and legs. Not a kill shot, but it served Sousuke's purpose nonetheless, sending the man towards a series of enclosures on the right.

Sousuke ran after his prey, firing his F2000 as he closed the distance. He scored another hit on the other man's hip, causing him to stumble but not fall.

'Yes. Take the quickest route to cover.'

A rabbit with the hounds right on his heels, the wounded man had little time to examine the environment in front of him. Stepping on a dirt-covered tarp, he fell into one of the concealed pits. Wanting to be certain, Sousuke pulled the pin on a fragmentation grenade, tossing the small bomb into the pit.

_Only one more to go.  
_  
"Are you OK, Kaname?"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Finally, things are looking up. Sort of." Kaname was counting her blessings.

No, she did _not_ consider herself to be fortunate to be trapped here in this insane den of depravity

Likewise, it was _not_ her fondest dream to be running around barely clad amongst a large crowd of strangers.

But, no one had made any attempt to take advantage of her rather vulnerable condition. And, she had no further sign of Maewe, Reginald, or any of their recognizable associates.

"You. _You there_. Have you seen a half naked woman come this way? TELL ME!" Obviously, Kaname had spoken much too soon. It was Maewe's voice.

Galvanized into action, Kaname put all of her energy into looking for a place to hide and for something to use as a weapon.

'Yes. That will do. That will do nicely.'

A large grill area was completely abandoned, the cook fires still smoldering away. Large skewers of meat and vegetables lay roasting over the coals. Pitchers of beer, wine, and sangria littered the polished wooden countertop.

'There's still a chance. Oh. And there's a mirrored pillar there, just in the right spot. I can duck behind the bar and still have a good view of that bitch if she comes this way. Yes. If she comes too close, lights out!'

_Kaname smiled. It would be wonderful to add Maewe to the grill.  
_  
'Get real! This is NOT a game. I'll be lucky just to survive.'

Too late, she realized a simple but crucial fact. If she could see Maewe in the mirror from one angle, their was a very good chance that Maewe could see her from a different angle. Her fears were soon realized.

"Hungry are we, Kaname? I would have thought that you've added too much meat to those bones of yours _already_." Maewe sounded rather pleased with herself. "I suppose the condemned deserve their last meal. Take a bite or two if you like. I am feeling rather charitable. I can wait a few more moments."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"All right Sis, here we _go!"_ Kurz had piloted his M9 up onto the roof of the warehouse building. Melissa's M9 was on the ground below him, standing near the wall that was closest to Sousuke's current position.

Both Arm Slaves moved in near synchrony, bringing their monomolecular cutters into position. Sparks flew like glowing fountain sprays as the powerful devices cut their way through steel and pig iron.

"Needless to say, junior, shoot first and accept surrender second. We can't afford to trust anyone until Sousuke is safe and sound. After that, it's your choice whether or not you want to stick with any of the statutes of the Geneva f-cking Convention."

"You betcha, babe. I'll be going in with guns blazing. _O yeh!_ It's party time." Kurz pushed the 'play' button, queuing up his next song.

_'It's criminal, there ought to be a law _

'Criminal, and you know what we're shootin' for

'Shouting at the other guy

'when his back is turned

'Don't know the reason why

'Ain't it about time you learn

"Settle down, shithead!" Melissa sounded exasperated. "Don't get too crazy now. We don't want to hit Sousuke. You want to try and explain something like that to Kaname?"

"Really? You _think?_ You really are such a great teacher. I never would have thought of that on my own. Beer must really be good brain food!" Kurz was not in the mood to be lectured. "Ooooh, sing it with me sensai..."

_'If you want blood, you got it _

'If you want blood, you got it

'Blood on the sheets, blood on the rocks

'Blood in the gutter, give my last drop

'You want blood, you got it

"Wha-ooh..." Kurz's singing wouldn't win any prizes.

"Your ass is gonna be brain food, Weber. The only decision I have to make is whether I should carve it up fresh or roast it first. Stop all the bullshit and get in there already!"

Kurz just laughed. He was ready to rock and ready to roll.

_'It's animal, livin' in the human zoo _

'It's animal, and I know what you gotta do

'It's the curse of the working' man

'Givin' more and getting' less

'Doin' everything he can, cleaning up the mess'

Pealing back a large area of cut roofing, Kurz looked down into the arena. Sensors fully operation and appropriately set, he located Sousuke's position quickly, slaving his optics to the transponder signal. Working the controls, he zoomed in, seeing his friend in the middle of a gun battle with a single enemy.

'Hmmm. Would Sousuke be more pissed if I let him die or get wounded, or if I take out that guy for him? Sure, that's easy. Better do it anyway.'

Swinging the Bofors into position, Kurz fired off four rounds with startling rapidity. Sousuke's opponent was torn asunder by the well-placed 57mm HE rounds. Seeing Sousuke look up in his direction, Kurz manipulated his right arm waldo, having his M9 give the younger soldier the 'thumb's up' sign.

_'If you want blood, you got it _

'If you want blood, you got it

'Blood on the sheets, blood on the rocks

'Blood in the gutter, give my last drop

'You want blood, you got it'

"Oooooh..."

Scanning the room for other small heat signatures indicative of people, Kurz was disappointed.

'No more targets. Shit! Sousuke must have been up to his old tricks again. Too damn efficient. Never enough concern about the feelings of his squad mates.'

Kurz saw Sousuke reach into his bag, unwind something, and place it on his head. Microphone, no doubt. Sure enough, a message came through.

"Kaname. What do we know about Kaname?" Sousuke sounded winded.

"Hey, Sousuke old chum, is that the way that you thank me for saving your tail? After putting up with all that crap from Mao?" Kurz was his usual self. When he finished with his jibes, he dropped his M9 carefully to the ground, landing with a jarring _thud._

"Shut it Weber, before I nail it closed!" Melissa's voice was rather fierce at first, but soon softened as she spoke to Sousuke.

"We don't know anything yet, Sousuke. I'm changing from your transponder frequency to her bracelet signal." She moved her Arm Slave to stand next to the other M9. A few moments later, the large mecha lifted its arm and pointed towards one area of the building expanse.

"She's in that direction."

"Sgt. Major Mao, those large mirror panels at the top of each walls are a reflective coating on windows. Might I suggest that you and Sgt. Weber use the Arm Slaves' fists as battering rams, gaining access to the area beyond?" Sousuke turned to stare in the direction Melissa's M9 had pointed.

"First, I would appreciate it if someone could gain entrance for me, lift me up, and put me down in Kaname's vicinity."

"Oh Yeh! Time to start breaking some glass and kicking some ass." Kurz sounded rather wound up. He was having altogether too much fun. "Anybody who moves is bad, if they're not Kaname...dressed as a fireman... or one of our assault troops... _right,_ Babe?"

"That's what I've been told, sergeant. What the bloody f-ck are you waiting for? Get that useless heap of metal moving!"

Sousuke watched as Kurz' M9 ran off towards the nearest wall, starting to climb when it reached a pyramid of industrial supplies.

"Climb up, Sousuke. Chauffeur service for one. Destination Kaname." A few moments later, the young sergeant found himself sitting on the giant palm of Melissa's Arm Slave.

He grabbed hold of one large finger as his squad leader climbed up the side of the wall in question. He covered his head with his arms when she directed her M9 to swing the but of its portable cannon towards the window.

_"Shit!_ That stuff is mighty tough. Gotta try something different." The mecha dropped its Bofors 57mm and took out the monomolecular cutter again. Running the humming cutter along the top of the window area, the M9 created a dense cloud of glass shards and metallic dust.

"Alright Sousuke, get ready. I'm going to pull some of that crap down. I'll make you a stairway out of the A.S.'s arm when I'm done. Haul ass as soon as you can!"

When he saw his opportunity, Sousuke moved.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Explosions in various areas of the roof gave access to men in uniforms.

What did it all mean? Was this some special branch of the police? The JSDF? A private military force of one of her father's competitors?

Maewe had no clue, but knew it did _not_ bode well. "Better make this quick."

She started to walk towards Kaname's place of hiding, freezing in place when she looked out into the arena. Two Arm Slaves suddenly seemed to appear out of thin air.

_Curiouser and curiouser.  
_  
'How did they do that? Better yet, Why were they here?'

As she watched, one pointed in her direction. She saw Sousuke Sagara climb on its outstretched hand. Then, it advanced in her direction. Was someone going to try and kidnap her? Worse yet, attempt to kill her? She almost ran towards the far end of the room when a giant knife-like weapon pushed through the wall bordering the arena, its chainsaw like edges moving way too fast to see the individual teeth.

"Over there. That woman has a gun." A masculine voice, behind her. That man possessing that voice might try to stop her. Maewe rushed to throw herself towards Kaname. She needed to get this done while she still could.

Her left leg suddenly crumpled beneath her. She had been shot. She fell hard into the side of the bar, bruising her cheek and splitting her lip. Her gun clattered across the floor.

"Leave that one. Come with me. There is a group of armed men held up in a room over there." Another soldier spoke to the first, convincing him to move on to more pressing business.

Maewe smiled.

She thought of Kaname cowering behind the bar. Going after her gun, she couldn't resist one final barb. "Kaname, dearest. This will be the crowning glory of my night, even better than seeing Sousuke shot in the head. Ooops, there I go ruining the surprise. You couldn't see that down there, could you?"

'That's _it!_ That's more than enough. God help you bitch, if it's true!'

Kaname grabbed a pitcher of sangria in one hand, stepped over to the grill, and grabbed a blackening skewer of food. At full speed, she ran straight at Maewe, seeing her bend over to retrieve her pistol.

'Gotta swing for the fences. All or nothing, Kaname.'

Kaname's atleticism proved the difference between victory and defeat. Before Maewe could bring her gun up all the way, her erstwhile victim swung the pitcher with all her strength, rather than tossing its contents in the other girl's face as she had originally planned.

The handle of the pitcher broke off under the force of the blow, along with some of Maewe's pearly whites. The older girl fell hard to the floor, gun still in hand.

Some things make a lasting impression. Kaname would never forget the feel or sound of what came next, no matter how hard she tried. Before Maewe could bring her gun to bear, Kaname followed up her initial strike with another, thrusting the skewer deep into the prone girl's abdomen. The resultant scream of pain sent shivers down her spine.

She felt faint.

'Hang tough, Kaname.'

She stepped on the gun, looking down at the agonized look on her tormentor's face.

Kaname did not know whether to feel relieved or disappointed. Maewe was still alive. She didn't know if she could bring herself to take any further action.

"Drop your weapon. Step away from that woman with your hands on your head." Kaname complied immediately, turning slowly. A soldier in a Mithril uniform stood five yards away, rifle leveled at her chest.

"Mithril. You're _Mithril._ I'm a friendly." Intent on convincing the soldier an the two troops who joined him, Kaname made the mistake of taking her foot off of Maewe's gun.

Suddenly she saw the soldier swing his rifle lower. She saw Maewe's gun. The soldier would be too late.

Gunshots rang out, from behind Kaname. Maewe's head exploded in a revolting spray of brain matter and skull fragments. The dead girls' pistol fired, missing her intended victim.

Turning, Kaname saw Sousuke.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Mithril soldiers were busy rounding up their captives and literally running groups of them off to waiting vehicles.

There wasn't too much time before the real police and fire companies should show up. Yes, they were currently busy with harmless diversions that Mithril operatives had set off elsewhere, but a small trickle of genuine and official forces could arrive any time.

Kaname knew that she should come up for air, but she did not care if she passed out, as long as she was in Sousuke's arms.

_Their kiss had been fierce.  
_  
Tears running down her face, she found herself speaking the obvious. "Sousuke, you're still alive."

"_Obviously,_ Kaname. As are you, I am happy to see." Sousuke felt weak with relief.

"Really?_ How_ happy?" Her eyes held longing, but also impending danger. She stepped away from Sousuke.

"Very much so. How could it be otherwise? You know how much I care about you."

"Yes, Sousuke. But, a girl needs to hear that. Over and over and over." She stomped her foot. They had been over this before. She kicked him in the shin, but soon pulled his arm back around herself.

"I love you, Kaname." Sousuke knew the right thing to say at that moment, He should have continued in that vein.

"Why are you dressed like that, Kaname?" In the great rush of emotions he had experienced when he realized Kaname was safe, Sousuke had somehow overlooked her state of undress until now.

The satisfied look on Kaname's face soon became replaced by anger. _"SOUSUKE!_ I suffer indignity piled on top of embarrassment...face physical trials and tribulations...and nearly meet my end...and you ask about my clothes! _Y-o-u-u-u."_

"Yes, Kaname. You know that I love you, but I do _not_ know why you are dressed like that." It was typical Sousuke logic. "We should find your clothes."

A number of Mithril soldiers approached Sousuke, passing along information about the current situation. By the time they had finished, Kaname's boil had been reduced to a simmer.

"We will need to move quickly, Kaname. It would be unfortunate to be in this building when police forces arrive. Especially if you are near naked." At that moment, he received a transmission from Melissa. He turned and saluted the two Arm Slaves out in the arena, watching as their ECS were engaged and they blurred into de facto invisibility.

"My things are in that room." Kaname's voice had a rather sharp edge to it.

The two of them walked toward the indicated room. Sousuke moved with a slow measured gate and a limp. Kaname strode with exaggerated swings of her arms and legs and a chip on her shoulder.

Mithril operatives were leading a line of captives out into the hallway. Kaname stopped at the sight of one particular person. A loud slap could be heard across the room.

_"You bastard!"_ Kaname yelled. Overcome by negative emotions, she kneed Reginald hard in the groin. "I hope you burn in Hell for the things you made me do!"

"But Kaname, my sweet, it was only in good fun. Naturally I would _never_ have..." Reginald was not able to finish his unctuous reassurances.

"Who is this man, Kaname?" Sousuke had interrupted Reginald, having no interest in what the other man had to say. "What did he do to you. Were you in some kind of danger because of him?"

Sousuke's eyes were angrier than Kaname had ever seen them before. He was standing up for her honor. Her heart filled with love and pride.

Before Kaname could answer, Reginald's pride and overconfidence proved his undoing.

"What the two of us shared is not as important as what _could_ occur in the future." His voice carried a forced tone of bravado and a rather unwise hint of innuendo. "My father and I are _very_ powerful people. When word of all of this gets out, neither you nor the delectable Miss Chidori will be safe, unless I want you to be!" Reginald actually smiled, despite the throbbing pain in his wrapped knee. _"You can both disappear just as easily as the others did!"  
_  
Sousuke stood rock still for a few moments, his eyes narrowed. He clenched and unclenched his hands, the feel of battle still about him. "We will continue this conversation in private."

Kaname flinched. Sousuke's voice was so flat and lifeless.

_What did he intend to do?  
_  
"Corporal, I will interrogate this man. He may well know of secret hiding places used by the elite. Take the remaining prisoners to the vehicles in accordance to prior instructions." The captive group of club members looked stricken at the word 'prisoners,' finally realizing the depths of their troubles.

"Sousuke, what are you doing? Why are we going back into this room?" Kaname was obviously uncomfortable, but was more concerned about whatever Sousuke had in mind. It took her a moment before she remembered her clothes.

"What exactly did he do, Kaname? And, is he as dangerous as he claims?" Sousuke listened patiently as Kaname told him everything that had happened. She passed along everything she had learned about Reginald and his father that night.

Blushing, she gathered up her blouse, skirt, and shoes and put them back on.

When Reginald tried to interject, Sousuke silenced him with a brief but brutal pistol-whipping. Kaname put her hand to her mouth. She had never seen Sousuke quite like this before.

"Kaname, you will want to leave the room now. You are in great danger. The prisoner is about to make a grab for a gun." Sousuke put a fresh clip into his Glock.

Both Kaname and Reginald stared, slack-jawed, slowly becoming aware of precisely what Sousuke's statement implied.

"No. You _can't_ do this! You can't just put me down like I'm some kind of dangerous animal." Reginald's voice had gone up a few octaves. His muscles tightened. He was about to make a run for it. Sousuke grabbed a lamp off of a nearby table and clouted the wounded man across the jaw with it, sending him sprawling to the floor.

_Sousuke was Rainsford's avatar now._

He needed to finish the game.

Reginald may not have been Zaroff before, but for all extensive purposes, he was Zaroff now.

In the short story, the amoral Russian general might have let his prey go, seeing that Rainsfords had survived the game. In all likelihood, however, he could not have allowed the secret of his island to reach international authorities. Rainsford could not take that risk...or hadn't even bothered worrying about risk, still caught up in the fever of his life and death struggle.

_He had still been filled by the spirit of the beast._

"Sousuke. Please. Don't." Kaname did not want to be here. She didn't want to see this. If she stayed in the room, would he still go through with it?

"He is a great danger to you, Kaname. He may be a serious danger to the organization." Sousuke did not look at Kaname. He would _not_ make the same mistake he had made with Gauron. Letting him live when he surrendered cost Mithril two fine soldiers and took two more comrades out of his life.

It had almost led to the destruction of the TDD-1.

Some dangers were just too great.

_Kaname's life had risk enough as it was._

"I know Sousuke. I can accept that." Kaname stared at the pistol in Sousuke's hand. Would he shoot Reginald in cold blood?

"I cannot." Sousuke threw Maewe's pistol to Reginald.

The young man did not look so full of himself now. Sousuke held his own pistol down at his side. "What was the game? Yes. You have one minute..."

Kaname thought back to her dancing. She had wanted something like this to happen, then. Now, up close and real, it didn't seem so desirable.

Seeing only one chance to live, Reginald brought the gun up as quickly as he could. A single gunshot echoed about the room. Reginald's blood began pooling around his lifeless form.

For a moment, Kaname stared at Sousuke as if she had never seen him before.

'Did that really happen? Is this some kind of bad dream?'

It came to her, the fact that this Sousuke had always been there. Underneath. A remnant of his violent upbringing. She was torn between feelings of disbelief, horror, fear, and sympathy. She began to understand what his confessions about his actions under the medicines truly meant.

"You may very well grow to hate me now, Kaname" Sousuke said quietly, correctly predicting her thoughts. "I knew that before I pulled the trigger. Nothing is more important than your life. Nothing." The gun fell from his hand.

"Sousuke..." Tears welled up in Kaname's eyes.

There was sorrow in Sousuke's voice. Great sorrow, and pain. But no regret.

"I love you, Kaname. That will never change, no matter how you feel about me. I had to do things today that will probably haunt me for a long time, if not forever" He tensed, closing his eyes.

"I told you before, you've given me a conscience. Before I met you, I never carried such a heavy burden. It is worth it, however. For the time that I got to spend with you..."

Kaname's heart skipped a beat.

'Time he spent with me?'

_SPENT?  
_  
As in past tense…with no future tense?

_What exactly was he saying?_

"Sousuke..."

"Kaname, I had aleady written myself off as expendable today. All that mattered to me was that you be made safe again. By all rights, I should be food for the crows now. If I am dead to you, I must learn to accept it..."

Kaname stood still a moment, her heart pounding and her mind abuzz. Clenching her teeth, ran over to the sullen Mithril sergeant, and slapped him hard across the face. There was a message she needed to get through to the big idiot!

"I deserve that, Kaname."

"You sure do, you big jerk! Moron! Stupid head!" She had to fight the urge to kick him repeatedly. "The Sousuke I love wouldn't stand here, head hung, giving up. He would fight for me!"

She knew there would be issues for her to work through, but the true core of her feelings was intact.

"Kaname?" Sousuke stood staring at her, waiting for her next words.

Aside from the blood, grease, and smears of dirt and dust, he looked just like any other teenage boy. But, he was a cold-blooded killer. Ruthless when he had to be. Willing to do whatever was necessary to ensure Kaname's safety.

Kaname looked at him, her emotions spinning out of control. Could she deal with him now, after all this? Did she really want to? What might happen tomorrow, next week, a year from now?

She asked herself those questions for completeness sake. She needed to be fair to herself and Sousuke. The answer was obvious, however, despite all that had happened… and in some small way, _because_ of all that had happened. She had challenged Sousuke with some strong words. How could she simply give up now?

It was not a fairy tale. It was far from a perfect world. But, Sousuke fought with everything he had to make certain she remained a part of that world. Kaname walked over to Sousuke, took his hand in hers, and placed it over her heart.

"Kaname, I..." Sousuke looked sick. The true nature of his actions had come to roost.

"Sousuke, if you had died today, I don't know if I would have wanted to go on living..." Kaname's eyes filled with tears.

"I see." Sousuke's look was unreadable. "It is a good thing that I survived, then." He found himself falling to the floor, Kaname draped all over him, her hands caressing him fiercely. "Kaname, there is no time for this now. We should leave while we can." The young soldier looked up into a pair of large eyes filled with unconditional love.

"Shut up, Sousuke..."

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

THE END


End file.
